#most of them aren’t even really in this one but i was having wing thoughts

[our-death-means-flag]

Above the Clouds and the Atmosphere

Ship: Izzy Hands x Reader

Notes: Wing AU, Izzy hasn’t been able to fly in decades. It doesn’t bother him. (It does.) Reader is the first person he’s met with wings strong enough to carry someone and fly. Not that it matters, Izzy doesn’t need to fly again. (He does.)

So, @run-me-through-but-not-like-that (hope the tag isn’t annoying!) wrote a wing fic with Izzy a while ago and it has not left my brain since. I thought that Izzy deserved to fly again and I love wing fics. So, here’s this.

Warnings: mentioned wing injuries, angst, Izzy being difficult

Title Song: Rocketeer by Far East Movement (but I’m specifically thinking of this cover by Clara C.)

It was impossible not to notice.

A crew member with wings was fairly run of the mill. If anything, they were sought after since the benefits of having a pirate who could fly were too many to count. Most crews only had two or three if they were lucky. The Revenge somehow had six five, Ed, Fang, Bonnet, Buttons, and you.

You still somehow stood out.

Your wings were absolutely massive. You had a larger wingspan than Ed which was a feat on its own. And you were without question the strongest flier on the crew.  (Yes, the crew of this clown ship had hosted a competition for that for some bloody reason, during which Izzy did his damndest to hide below deck) Though, and he’d never admit it, he did enjoy watching you. Watching you fly so smoothly when you scouted the waters ahead, watching you swoop down to attack an enemy sending them falling off the boat while you effortlessly shot back up into the air, watching you laugh and joke with the crew, wings moving almost as much as your hands as you spoke, emphasizing your words. You always flew so gracefully. Each twitch of your feathers was intentional and the gusts of wind that each flap of your wings created felt like a storm.

Every once in a while he’d purposely stand near you and when the wind from your wings hit his face it felt like he was flying again, just for an instant, but of course, that instant would pass and then he’d be slammed back into reality, grounded, permanently.

It was beautiful.

It was horrible.

Watching you was incredible but it made his wings ache. 

He was stuck. Part of him wanted to cling to you and to the memories of flying. But he didn’t. Instead he avoided you and your beautiful wings and the memories you brought, snapping whenever you dared try and get close, being significantly more hostile towards you than the rest of the crew.

Despite that, you kept trying. You were soft. Just like the rest of the crew. You were capable too, on par with what he’d expect from Blackbeard’s crew. But you were soft. You were kind and gentle and helpful. You always greeted him with a warm “Hello Izzy!” or a “Good morning, Izzy!” or a “Do you need anything, Izzy?”

It made it hard to hate you.

He wondered if it was harder to hate you or to deal with the reminders you brought of what he couldn’t do anymore.

Regardless, he avoided you. 

But avoiding you forever wasn’t practical…

A high pitched yell pulled him away from his work as he dragged a hand across his face.

“No peace and fockin’ quiet on this fockin’ ship.” He grumbled.

Usually a yell like that would have him worried that they were under attack but much to his surprise, he wasn’t really worried. He realized with no small amount of shock that it was because you’d been the one scouting today and you certainly wouldn’t be so incompetent. 

He quickly stopped thinking about how that must mean he trusts you.

Izzy stepped onto the deck and immediately noticed the source of the commotion. Practically the entire crew was crowded on the deck all clearly watching something. That something turned out to be you.

You were flying, easily keeping yourself hovering in place with strategic flaps of your wings. Clutching desperately onto you, was Lucius. The scribe looks like he was moments away from screaming again even as Izzy saw you gently comforting him and (if he was reading your lips right) telling him that it wasn’t that high up, that even if you dropped him, which you emphasized that you definitely wouldn’t do, he’d be fine.

Izzy shook his head trying to stop staring at you. He did the only thing he could think of and barked out “What the fuck are you useless lot doing?” 

A few people turned to glare at him and you looked remarkably guilty. In an annoyingly graceful movement, you landed deftly on the deck and gently released Lucius (honestly having to peel him off more than anything). 

You rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. “Sorry Izzy! Some of the crew wanted to go for a fly and I was done scouting— didn’t see anything interesting— and I’m the strongest flier… So, I figured.” You rambled and Izzy made a point of not looking at how the edges of your wings twitched as you moved your hands. “I… uh…” You seemed to lose confidence as you spoke. “Yeah…”

Some members of the crew notably stepped in between him and you as if to defend you. Not that it stopped him from opening his mouth, ready to unleash a volley of insults but the hand on his shoulder did.

“Aw, come on now. Lay off them Iz…” Edward’s voice was soft as he wrapped both his arm and wing around his shoulder, almost hiding the two of them from view.

The crew went back to talking to you, assuming that Ed would handle Izzy.

Ed took his chance and ducked slightly and whispered into Izzy’s ear, almost conspiratorially, “You know, if you asked, I’m sure they’d take you for a fly… They’re probably the only person we’ve met who could.” 

Izzy tensed. Of course you could. And Ed was right. You were very likely the only person who could. He’d never met anyone with wings as strong as yours. You definitely could carry him and fly.

Edward couldn’t. His wings were made for speed, not strength. Even though he’d been nearly dead, he remembered the first raid after his wings had gotten injured. Ed had scooped him into his arms and flown them back to their ship. He’d barely made it, actually hitting the railing and sending both of them skidding across the deck. Ed had sprained his own wings horribly after that, so Izzy never let him carry him again. He wouldn’t let his captain ground himself for his sake.

Izzy glanced at you again as you gently pulled Lucius into your arms again, comforting him before gently taking off.

The idea took over his mind. He could fly again. He’d never thought it would be possible.

No. It didn’t matter. He was fine.

He’d been fine without his flight for years. The hours he’d spent staring at the sky didn’t matter. The nights he’d spend curled up in his bunk, trying desperately to fall back asleep and dream of flying for just one more second didn’t matter.

He was fine.

Izzy rolled his shoulder pushing Ed’s hand off him. “I don’t need them.” He spat and stormed off.

He made a point of not looking at Edward’s guilty look. He knew that Ed had always blamed himself for the state of Izzy’s wings. Izzy had gotten the injuries protecting him after all. Even if Izzy knew about his captain's guilt, he couldn’t understand it. Protecting his captain came before everything else. Even his wings.

And he was fine.

—

Izzy did a double take the moment he stepped onto the deck for his late night rounds. The deck was empty, the night chilly enough to send everyone down to the bunks rather than sleeping on deck. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. Everything was done? The rigging was secure. The deck was organized and clean and he had no idea what was going on.

Until he spotted a familiar wing. 

Of course. It just had to be you. 

You were crouched near the front of the ship, wings fluttering in concentration as you meticulously checked the remainder of the rigging. So the state of the deck was probably because of you. But why? You’d usually be in bed or eating with the crew by now and you certainly didn’t have a late night shift today. So why were you here working?

Not sure how to get your attention without having to get close enough to risk touching your wings or yelling, he cleared his throat. You jumped lightly and he saw your hand shoot for the blade at your side until you looked over your shoulder and caught sight of him. Then you smiled.

“Evenin’ Izzy!” You greeted as politely as usual.

“Right,” was his curt response. “What are you doing here so damn late?”

You stood, somewhat sheepishly. “Oh, well… I figured I ought to help out a little…” He only got more confused and you seemed to notice since you continued, “well, I was the one who distracted everyone earlier and I wanted to make it up to you… so… I handled some things.” 

He furrowed his brows. “Make it up to me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want you getting stuck with extra work cause I distracted everyone.”  You said it so matter-of-factly too, as if it was normal for you to do something like that for him.

On any other ship, if you’d do something like that, it would be out of fear, hoping to avoid punishment for slacking off. But no one on this ship was actually afraid of him since they all knew that the captains wouldn’t let him do anything. Maybe you were doing another strange thing again. Like how you greeted him and helped out.

Ridiculous.

“Fine.” He glanced at the rigging. “Not bad.” You beamed like he’d given you a huge compliment. “Go.” He dismissed you coldly, trying not to think about how much he liked seeing you smiling.

You walked past him, still smiling. Then you stopped. He was moments away from telling you to fuck off when you spoke again, “You know… my offer stands for you too.” He looked back at you.

“What offer?” He snapped.

“Flying. You weren’t on deck when I mentioned it to the rest of the crew but if you ever want me to take you for a fly, I’d be happy to. Just say the word.” He froze. “If you don’t want to do anything around the crew, let me know and I can find a time where we can fly without them around.”

Izzy stared at you. 

Did he want that?

Did he want to fly again?

He tried to picture it, the wind in his face, the ocean beneath him, your arms holding him and your beautiful wings keeping both of you in the air.

He hates the fact that he doesn’t hate the ideas.

You seem to take his silence and glare wrong as you rush to correct yourself. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to assume… I know you don’t like me and I know my wings make you uncomfortable and-

“What?” Izzy manages to force the word out, cutting off your words. 

You smiled sadly. “I'm not that oblivious. I know you keep avoiding me and whenever I fly you always seem really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I want to be friends but if you want me to fuck off, just say the word and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”  

“Friends?” He echoed as if that was the most surprising thing you’d said. Not only had you caught on to his behavior but you were actively trying to make it up to him for them. 

You chuckled but it was clearly more at yourself than anything he said. ”Yeah… stupid. I know… I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He wasn’t sure why but he had to say it, had to get that stupid sad expression off your face. You seemed surprised. “I don't hate you.”

You froze, glancing back at him. “What?”

He groaned, realizing that he’d backed himself into a conversational corner. “I don’t hate you or your wings. Honestly you’re the most tolerable out of this whole damn crew. You actually know what you’re doing.”

You turned fully to face him, confusion and hope clear on your face. “You don’t? Then why do you avoid me?”

“Because I hate being reminded of what I can’t do!” He snapped. Then almost immediately froze as he realized what he’d said a moment after saying it. Your eyes widened. His eyes widened. “Fuck.”

His wings flexed uselessly under the many layers of wraps keeping them pressed to his back.

“You have…”

“Yes.” No point beating around the bush. “Can’t fly anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your tone of voice stunned him. You weren’t mocking him. He still remembered the way the rest of Hornigold’s crew had reacted to his sudden grounding. And get here you were genuinely telling him you were sorry without an ounce of sarcasm or mockery. You, with the most beautiful set of wings he’d ever seen.

“I don’t want your damn pity.” He snapped.

You didn’t react. “It’s not pity. I mean it. I’m genuinely sorry that happened to you.”

He didn’t know how to react to the fact he believed you.

“Thank you for telling me Izzy. If you ever need anyone to help with your wings, just ask.” Your words were so gentle, so genuine. “Goodnight Izzy.” You turned.

“Wait.” The word came out like a command, even as his voice shook. He knew if he didn’t say it now he’d probably never get the courage again. You turned, confused. But Izzy spoke before you did. “I want to fly.”

“What?”

“I’m not fucking saying it again.”

You (damn you) didn’t push or try to mess with him. Instead you just smiled. “Of course. If you’d like, we could go now?” You offered gently.

Izzy hesitated. He technically didn’t have any nightly duties left since you’d done everything aside from being on watch which he could easily do while flying. He swallowed. “Sure.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face and the way your wings fluttered in excitement. You opened your arms and smiled at him. “I’m going to have to pick you up.” 

Izzy couldn’t help but be a little grateful for you simply allowing him to come to you rather than grab him. With far more hesitation than he cared to admit, Izzy moved closer, tentatively stepping into arms reach of you.. You gestured with your arms and raised a brow, silently asking if you could pick him up. Izzy managed to mumble a “Yeah, go for it.” and he was lucky the two of you were so close since he was barely louder than a whisper.

You moved carefully, gently picking him up. One of your arms under his legs and the other resting gently against his back. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to keep himself steady and was trying (and failing) incredibly hard to not think about how you were holding him

“You good?” You asked, speaking incredibly softly. With Izzy in your arms like he was, he could feel your breath on his ear. Izzy doubted he could actually get his lips to form words but he managed a quick nod. “Alright, I’m going to stay over the deck, not too high. Then if that’s fine with you I can fly around.”

Why did you have to be so frustratingly considerate? 

Izzy nodded against your shoulder.

You smiled, even without looking at you, he could hear it in your voice. “Got it. I’m taking off on the count of 3. 1…”

Izzy took a deep breath.

“2…”

He adjusted his grip on your shoulders.

“3!”

More on instinct than any conscious thought, Izzy buried his face in your shoulder. He heard the flap of your wings, the air rushing past, and then, calm. He pulled away from your shoulder slowly and opened his eyes. The two of you were hovering over the deck, about eye level with the mizzentop, your wings carefully flapping to keep you both as still as possible. It took a moment for everything to click in his mind. 

He was flying.

“Izzy?” Your voice gently pulled him from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

He really wanted to give some cool response maybe a smooth “never better” but instead the only sound that managed to escape him was a “mhhnngh” which not only wasn’t smooth at all but also didn’t answer your question so instead he managed to nod.

“Do you want to fly around more?” He could practically hear the smile in your voice. 

Since Izzy’s vocal chords were still not cooperating, he nodded, almost frantically.

“Alright… Let’s go…” With another powerful flap of your wings you shot off away from the Revenge. Izzy felt the wind rushing by his face, tousling his hair. He watched the ocean flicker past just below him.  You dove down, and Izzy suddenly felt the sea mist against his skin. 

When his wings had healed enough for him to attempt flying, he'd honestly already known at that point that it would be useless. He’d tried regardless. Of course, he couldn’t. He pretended it didn’t bother him. But honestly, the idea that he’d never be able to fly again burned up his mind in a way he’d never been able to shake.

But he was actually flying.

It felt like a dream.

Izzy’s eyes must have been watering from the wind and the salt. 

He definitely wasn’t crying.

He was fine.

Without even thinking about it, Izzy reached a hand out towards the sea, desperate to reach out and touch it, as if that would fully confirm for him that he wasn’t dreaming. Seemingly realizing what he wanted, you swooped lower, allowing the tips of Izzy’s fingers to skip across the surface of the waves. You soared up into the air, Izzy watching the waves created from air from your wings.  Then you dove back down. You flew laps around the Revenge, staying just close enough to be safe. Of course, you (irritatingly considerate) kept checking in with him. “Is this okay?” “You alright?” “Everything fine?” To which Izzy could only respond with nods.

By the time you were landing back on deck,  Izzy honestly had no clue how long the two of you had been flying. He’d somehow just let himself get lost in the feeling of flying. A quick glance at the sky made him suddenly realize that his watch was almost up. The two of you had flown around almost all night. Izzy was honestly a lot more reluctant to leave your arms than he’d expected to be, but the fear of someone coming on deck and seeing you both made him finally remove himself from your arms.

He expected to feel just as awful as he had when he’d first realized he was stuck on the ground the moment his feet touched the ground but that didn’t happen. He felt lighter, more comfortable, like some tension he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying was gone. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, trying to make it look more like he was rubbing sleep away from his eyes with limited success.

“Izzy?” Your voice once again, cut through the silence. He spun, turning to see you leaning against the railing, wings relaxed and breathing a bit heavier than normal, shoulders visibly moving. It seemed that even for someone as strong as you, flying around for hours carrying someone was a lot of work. 

“You look exhausted. You should have stopped sooner.” He winced at his own words, hating how even that came out as a complaint.

You chuckled lightly, seemingly not taking his words as insulting in any way. “Yeah, probably.” You agreed as you gently stretched your wings out. Izzy was once again struck by how big and powerful your wings were. “But you seemed to be having a good time so… I only really doubled back when I realized the watch shift was going to change, figured you wouldn’t want any of the crew seeing you.”

Again with you being so frustratingly considerate of him. Izzy sighed. You still made little sense to him with all that kindness but that was an issue for another day. “You ought to go to sleep. I’ll handle your morning tasks so you can sleep in.”

You immediately waved your hands. “Oh you don’t have to do that!”

“I know I don’t.” Izzy replied matter-of-factly. “Just as you didn’t need to stay up late to help me nor take me flying.”

“You don’t owe me for any of that, Izzy. I did that because I wanted to.” 

He actually fumbled with his words for a moment. If it were anyone else, he would have immediately called bullshit, but you looked so incredibly genuine. Either you were the best liar he’d ever met, or you were being sincere. “In that case, go to bed. I’ll cover for you because I want to.” He tried to make his voice as authoritative as possible but it was incredibly hard to do that when you were looking at him so softly. “You’re not convincing me otherwise.”

You smiled. “If you insist. Goodnight Izzy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.” Izzy replied with a nod. You walked past him to the bunks, and Izzy gathered up his courage. “Thank you.” He managed to force out without turning to face you,  just as you were about to leave. 

“Of course, anytime!”

Left alone on deck for a few minutes until shift change, Izzy watched the sky.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Cooler Heads Will Prevail

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: it's too hot to do anything in the States. Except apparently write Aemond x Reader smut about how it's too hot.

tags: heterosexual sex, fingering, sex outdoors, aemond speaking High Valyrian cause it's sexy, Vhagar being sassy in the background. 

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“Gods how can you stand to wear that?”

You felt ten times hotter just looking at your husband, dressed in his traditional black & leathers, as he sat next to you while you baked in this heat. Even with all the windows and curtains open, dressed in the thinnest dress that modesty could cling to, and servants fanning you both like Dornish aristocracy, you still felt like you were melting.

“It is all a matter of perspective, my dear wife.” Aemond replied. Not looking up from his book. “And will power.”

You groan and drop your own book, spreading out as far as your limbs would go on the chaise. You despised these hot summers. Everything was hot. Everything you touched, including yourself, was sticky. You felt like every breath was drawing in more hot air, which in turn made you hotter, and considerably cranky. It was too hot to do anything.

Aemond glanced up at you with his good eye, then closed his books. The servants scatter when the prince stood. Taking away what little precious, if fruitless, relief you had. “Are you really that miserable?” He asked, leaning over you with one arm pressed against the back of the chaise.

“Just look at me.”

“I am.” His mouth coiled into a smirk as he leaned further down to kiss you.

But you turn your head away with an unsatisfied huff. “It’s too hot.” Though you loved Aemond unconditionally, apparently it had its limits. He’d have to wait until the sun went down, at the very least, before you would consider touching him.

The prince huffed. “Fine. Get up.”

You didn’t have time to ask Aemond why before he was grabbing your hand and hoisting you to your feet. Dragging you along behind him as you tried to keep up with his impressive gait thanks to those long legs.

Your protests & questions stopped halfway through your journey, and Aemond finally let your hand go once the two of you reached the Dragonpit. Vhagar’s indominable frame taking up most of the space a lotted to her as she coolly acknowledged her rider then settled back down. “What are we doing here?”

“Leaving the city.” Aemond was already mounting Vhagar. Settled into her saddle before he reached out to you with his hand.

You often dreamed of being a dragon rider. To be up in the skies. To command giants. But you didn’t have the blood for it. Instead, you just admired them from afar. “I thought you said Vhagar didn’t like secondary riders.”

“Vhagar does not like any rider but me.” He clarified. “But she will not harm you. Trust me.”

You did trust Aemond. Still, you glance over to Vhagar, looking into her giant eye for permission, who looked back at you for a long moment before she blinked with her inner lid and turned her gaze from you. You took that as a yes and grabbed Aemond’s hand.

He hoisted you up into the saddle with ease. Seating you in front of him. His legs on either side of you as he fastened you both to the harness before taking the reins. “sōvēs Vhagar.”

The dragon rose from her seat. Seeming annoyed about it, but you couldn’t be sure. She took three long strides before her wings were aloft and you were up in the air. You close your eyes tight. Gripping Aemon’s thighs on either side as you felt your stomach try to drop all the way back to the ground. “Open your eyes.” Aemond’s voice brushed against your ear, louder than the rushing air around you. You do as he says. With one at first, then opening both to see the beautiful bright sky around you and white, fluffy clouds. It was breath taking.

You aren’t brave enough to look down, but after a while Aemond shouted, “tegot Vhagar,” and the dragon circled around a patch of Earth before gracefully hurling itself towards it.

When you landed Aemond undid your bindings and jumped down. He held his arms out towards you, waiting for you to jump, and easily caught you when you fell into his open arms. “Where are we Aemond?”

The prince shrugged, “somewhere North.” That was all he said before he stalked off into the woods past the clearing.

You look around and admire the beauty of the small forest, before you follow after your husband. Vhagar seemed fine on her own to resume her nap while you both went on your walk to wherever Aemond was going. “Aemond, what are we doing here?”

“You said you were hot.” He told you. In a tone that implied ‘we just talked about this’ as he cut through the path.

“Yes. But why are we here?” It was significantly cooler, but still summer. The balminess of the city had been replaced with the natural humidity of the trees. One evil for a lesser one.

Aemond didn’t answer this time and instead pushed past the last of the greenery to reveal a second clearing. Sun dappled, with trees and flowers circling a natural freshwater pond, in a perfect idyllic scene. “Gods…It’s beautiful.”

“We did not come all this way just to look at it.”

You turn to Aemond to see him already unbuttoning his jerkin. “You cannot be serious.” Apparently, he was, as he was already tossing his jerkin aside and pulling off his under tunic. “Aemond?? We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

“Exactly. No one will find us.” His belt, boots, and pants quickly made it into the pile. His small clothes next. Then finally his eye patch. “Are you coming or not?” You stare at Aemond, a little slack jawed, as he stood there completely naked. As if you were the crazy one for not joining him.

Fingers carefully come up to your lacings. Fumbling with the strings as your embarrassment makes the digits unable to cooperate properly. Aemond was right, no one would see you. But this was still the first time you had been naked ‘in public’. Ladies did not go around the world in the nude. Although, apparently, a Targaryen’s woman did.

Aemond grinned as he watched you let loose your dress, then walked backwards a few paces before he turned and walked over to one of the rocks. Standing on it, like some Valyrian statue, before he jumped in. You were not nearly as brave, and shyly stepped into the water from its calm shore with your hands protecting your modesty.

The water was like ice on your overheated skin, but it felt so good! You let out a sigh and relax. Sinking neck deep into the water as you pulled your knees to your chest to float. “Feeling better?” You turn to look at Aemond as he swam up to you. His long hair floating behind him like a silver net. Looking more triton than dragon at the moment. You offer him a soft smile and nod.

The prince smiled back. Then he floated to his center before he stood, able to reach the bottom and have the water just barely brush past his navel. “Can I kiss you now?”

You looked up at Aemond, who was looking back down at you, waiting for an answer. Your smile broadens and you release your knees to stand on your own feet as well. The water just barely kissing your breasts in comparison. “Yes Aemond, you can kiss me.”

He looked so pleased. As if all this effort was worth it as he took your chin in his fingers to tilt your lips to his. You moan at the first contact of his tongue against yours. Hells…how long had it been since you kissed him properly.

You had not been joking when you said it was too hot to do anything. That included laying with your husband. Though you shared the same bed, the most you had done for the past weeks was brief kisses & touches before shunting off to your separate corners of the mattress. Desperate not to add anymore heat to your person.

Now that you were cooled off, a renewed heat was swelling up inside you. “Aemond…”

The man in question pulled back just a hair’s breadth to look at you. The hand once tilting up your chin now brushing water droplets from your cheek. “I have missed you, issa jorrāelagon.”

“I know.” And you felt guilty for that. “I’ve missed you too.” Together seperately had been the way things had been with this heat. But now you were somewhere cool, calm, and secluded with your husband.

You latch on to Aemond like a drowning man. His body your life raft. His kiss your air. He pulled you in with equal fervor and you felt his longing press against your belly. Hot and hard, despite the cold water. “Aemond…” You gasp again. Intentionally brushing against him to feel more of his manhood and eager to have not against your belly but inside it. “Please…”

The prince growled and kissed you again. His teeth nipping possessively at your lips this time, before he pulled you into his arms and wrapped your legs around him. Carrying you out of the water with ease and laying you on the soft grass that would be your marriage bed for the afternoon.

Aemond continued to kiss you. Letting you go for a moment before peppering your lips, face, and neck with more kisses. As if he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do next with you. “You should be like this at all times.”

“Underneath you?” You respond cheekily.

“Naked.” He corrected. Your head tipping back as his arm slipped betwixt you and his fingers began toying with your sex. “You wouldn’t be so hot. And we would no longer have to deal with those ridiculous laces.”

“I don’t think your mother would appreciate such a ‘casual’ manner of dress at court.” You gasp sharply as two of Aemond’s fingers suddenly slipped inside you. Clearly a diversion in the conversation as he doesn’t want to talk about his mother right now.

“Hmmm…it is probably for the best. I’d gouge out the eye of any man who would look at you besides me. Then I would no longer be unique.”

“Certainly less fashionable.” Another sharp gasp escapes you as Aemond’s fingers curled up inside you against that spot that made you see stars. Silently telling you that if you didn’t stop with the cheek you were going to get it. ‘Good’ you thought.

His fingers continued to work you open as his mouth swallowed your cries. “Aemond!” You shouted when his thumb brushed against your pearl. Pushing at his shoulders while your legs shook at the intense feeling, but he wouldn’t stop. He let you go long enough to let your climax cry come out clearly. Loud and pure. Birds fluttering off in the distance that were startled by the sound.

“You’re so beautiful when you quake for me.”

“Only you.”

Your hand came up to stroke his face. Hard lines. Soft expression. Your fingertip brushes against just the end of his scar before trailing down to flick his bottom lip. Red and swollen from your kissing. Vibrant against his cool, alabaster skin. Perfect.

“Make me quake for you again my love.” Your legs splayed wide for him. Making space for him and his cock in your drooling cunt.

Aemond doesn’t have to be told anything twice and he descended on you. Lining up his cock, pushing it inside you with coiled control just waiting to snap, waiting there until you were ready. You let him know you were ready by jutting your hips a bit. Your prince looking at your face for a moment to make sure before that coiled control snapped clean.

The two of you rut in the forest like animals. Grunting and moaning and the wet sound of slapping skin. Aemond spread your legs wider for him. Letting him thrust harder and deeper into you. Your head fell back against the damp grass. The sweet smell mixed with your sweat making you dizzy while the sharp climb towards a second climax made you lightheaded.

You will your eyes open to look at Aemond. His eye fixed only on you. Almost completely black like the stories portrayed him. Black enough that it looked as though it had bled into his sapphire. But this was not the eyes of a monster, but a beast. Your beast. Your one and only, as this look as just for you.

“A-Aemond!” You shout again. Fingers clenched in his wet tresses. Whole body shaking around him this time. Aemond’s teeth clenched to the point they look like they might break before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His own hips stuttered as his warmth filled you up.

The two of you laid there for a moment. Catching your breath. Sated in one another until Aemond likely feels he’s too heavy for you and rolls off you to the side. “We should head back.”

You turn your head to look at him. Wounded. Did it have to be right now? “The sun will be setting soon. It will not be as hot upon our return.”

You look back up at the sky and indeed see the shadows had gotten longer since your arrival. “Must we?”

Aemond chuckled at your plea. Rolling back over to your side to coil his body around you like a serpent. Head on your shoulder. You know he had missed this almost as much as the other. “Not right now.” He agreed. “But soon. We can come back whenever you’d like though.”

“Tomorrow?” He laughed again.

“Whenever you’d like.”

The two of you bask in the moment and beautiful scenery for a little while longer. Enjoying the cool and the quite before you had to return to the hot and the mayhem. You dress in silence. Then Aemond walked you both back down the path towards his dragon. Vhagar not seeming to notice one way or the other that you’ve been gone.

The heat hits you instantly once you break the perimeter of the city. Cooler than before but still sweltering. “I’m going to take a cool bath before bed.” You tell your prince as he gave his dragon a few goodbye pet before he left her for the day. “Care to join me?”

Only one thing could pull Aemond’s attention away from his dragon, and he turned to look over his shoulder at you with a smug grin. “Missing me already, issa jorrāelagon.”

“Oh yes.” You playfully agree as you walk backwards when Aemond came close. “I don’t know. Something about dragon riding puts me in the mood for….‘dragon riding’.”

The true rider grinned and closed the gap between you with quick ease. “Why do you think I seem never to want to keep my hands off you?” He pulled you in for a new kiss. Passionate, yes, but not nearly as fierce as before. You were back in the walls. Back in your cages. You had to be restrained lest other people talked. Because gods forbid a man & a wife actually fancied each other. He let you go and it was your turn to lead Aemond by the hand.

The weather was hot. But summer would eventually break. By the time winter came you intended to know all sorts of new ways to keep warm.

[coffeedragonart]

🍁🍂🍁

On Leaf Drakes, from the journal of Elena Hewett, research assistant at the Stagwick Institute (drake studies):

Leaf Drake observational study, day 1 (Summer’s End)

What a strange day! The weather has been quite windy, and today some leaf drakes were blown into the Institute gardens! There are already some floral drake species living in the gardens, but this is the first time we’ve seen leaf drakes. Like most garden drakes, they aren’t built for long distance flight, so they rely on catching wind currents to migrate and take up in a new area.

This species hasn’t been widely studied yet, so I’ve got some of the other assistants on board to observe them and hopefully expand our knowledge about these creatures.

Day 2

They seem to be planning to stay, and have claimed the big tree in the west side of the gardens. I’ve managed to book the use of one of the empty offices on that side, as it has a large window with a good view of the big tree.

From initial observations, there are five individuals in the group. They are quite social, and I have yet to see one go about by itself.

Week 1 (Autumn)

It has only been a few days, but they have really settled in. While still, they can be quite hard to spot as they really blend into the leaves, but they spend a lot of the day quite active.

They share a similar diet to the floral drakes in the garden, mostly insects and fruits, as well as absorbing magic from the environment and the aether-nectar in the garden feeders. But they are far more active hunters than the floral drakes.

From the window, I’ve been able to watch them hunting insects and even using cooperative tactics to hunt birds. They are quite small, and I would have thought that even the sparrows might have been a bit much for them as they are close in size.

The gardens are a popular spot for both students and institute staff to take their lunch, or just relax a few minutes in their downtime. The floral drake residents are quite shy, and generally either hide or watch from a safe distance, but the leaf drakes are far bolder.

They have no hesitation about coming to get a closer look at folk, even trying to beg food from them. However, they are a little territorial about their tree.

Week 3

Students and staff have been advised against eating near the big tree in the west gardens. No one has been seriously harmed, but after a few instances of people being harassed for their food, it was deemed necessary to cordon off that section of the garden. Their teeth and claws are quite effective, despite their small size.

There seems to be one drake in particular who instigates these ‘attacks’, and the others follow its lead. It is a little bit larger than the others, and has a rather striking dark band across the eyes.

Due to the interest in this field, we have been able to gain the support of the Institute to make this an offical study into the habits of leafdrakes. With that, we will have access to some extra resources to put towards their care, as well as make it harder for the gardeners to remove them for being a nuisance.

Week 4

Even as Autumn sets in, we are still having a few last warm days.

Our little office was quite stuffy today, so we opened a window to try and get some cool air or a breeze in.

I was soon interrupted in my work, by a pair of drakes alighting on the windowsill. We’ve seen them resting on the sill before, but have never been quite sure if they were looking in or just admiring their reflections. Up close, they are curiously birdlike in their movements, adjusting their wings and tilting their heads this way and that.

They were almost identical, with only slight differences in colouring and wing shape, like the leaves on the tree. One was the ringleader, quite a bit larger than the other, with the dark face band. The smaller one had the same facial marking, but far less stark. They sat and watched for only a few minutes, but leapt away when a door was slammed elsewhere in the building.

It was enough for me to correct and add a few more details to the sketch I’d been working on.

Week 6

After a few weeks of observation, it seems like only the one drake is growing, the rest of the flock have maintained their same size. After a meeting with the other assistants, we think that the study would benefit from being able to more closely track the ringleader.

We know that many of the Greater Drake species can continue growing throughout their lives, reaching immense sizes, but this trait has never been seen in any Garden Drake species, who remain small.

Week 6.2

It took some planning but we were able to capture the ringleader for a closer look.

A container trap was baited with aether-nectar and laced with a light sleep spell, and it didn’t take long for the drake’s greed to get the better of it. There was always the chance of trapping the wrong one, but like in a lot of pack dynamics, the ‘leader’ usually gets at the food first.

With testing, we found the drake is female. She is a healthy weight, and measures about 30cm from nose to tail-tip, we’ve estimated the others to be around 15-20cm. A small band has been attached to her leg to more easily identify her, enchanted so it will grow with her as needed. She woke up while we were attaching it, and my thumb bears the bloody mark of her displeasure, though she didn’t seem too put out once she was able to sit for a spell without being handled. She watched from the top corner of a cabinet while we finished the paperwork, and then we were able to let her back out into the garden.

I’ve nicknamed her Gertie.

Week 9

As the weather grows cooler, they are showing no signs of slowing down, but as the insects retreat, they have been more actively chasing the birds. Gertie appeared at the window, clutching a feather in her teeth, even as I was reading a note left regarding messenger birds going missing.

I would have thought them too large for the drakes, but Gertie has grown again, almost twice as long as the others.

I’m sure she can understand at least a little of what I say, and seems to be following our conversations. She doesn’t like being handled, but has learned ‘hold still’ and will pause and stretch out to let me measure her (as long as a treat is provided and the measuring doesn’t take too long).

Week 10

It seems like Gertie has some level of influence over the mood of the rest of the colony, almost like a hive. While she’s calm, the rest are calm and happy to sit near and watch. But when she startles..

Today, poor Rolf had the misfortune of tripping over one of the garden benches while I was working with Gertie. I think he was trying to see into one of the tree hollows. The bench rocked back and thumped down with a loud THUNK, and the colony took to the air in an angry cloud of claws and teeth.

We fled the gardens in haste, and were able to retreat into a toolshed until they settled. I got out with only a few scratches, but Rolf needed taking to the medic building. I’m sure he’ll look quite fetching in an eyepatch.

It took several days before the gardens were safe to re-enter.

Later that day, I received word that Rolf has quit. Understandably, no-one expects to lose an eye from a research job.

Week 12

An official complaint has been made regarding the missing birds. There isn’t a lot to be done, but I’ve reached out to enchanting to see if they can write a ward to divert the birds away from the air above the gardens.

One of the other assistants donned the protective gear to climb into the tree to inspect the hollows the drakes nest in. He returned, with a number of drakes clinging to his headgear, and three slightly chewed scroll cases. He noted that there are several more drakes in residence than we thought, though no evidence of eggs or breeding has been found.

The messages were quietly delivered (with apologies) and the matter dropped.

Week 13 (Autumn’s End)

The west gardens are severely overgrown. The gardeners have refused to go in at all since Gertie’s last grown spurt. She is now the size of a large cat, several times larger than the others.

Gertie still blends quite well into the trees, but has also started using the brambles and long grass to ambush rabbits and squirrels. As well as any passing ankles. I suspect it was one such ambush that drove the gardeners away.

Week 14 (Winter)

The floral drakes in the gardens have hidden themselves away to wait out the cold weather. The leaf drakes are a little hardier, but we’ve seen signs that they may be preparing to do the same, and have increased efforts to gather nesting materials. They have been spotted flying back and forth with all sorts of things in their claws, including feathers and shed fur, to small pebbles, coins, beads, even a few small aether-crystals. I didn’t get a good look, but I thought I saw one fly by with a pair of spectacles that I’m sure weren’t willingly donated.

Gertie still emerges when we go out, though a little more reluctantly. The area is too overgrown with brambles to get a good look, but I think they have dug out a space at the base of the tree to cozy up in. I doubt Gertie would fit into the tree hollow the colony were using previously, she is quite large now.

Week 15

At last measure, Gertie was just over four feet long. Her wings are a bit smaller in proportion and we don’t see her fly quite as much. However her hide is quite a bit tougher, starting to resemble pinecone scales in some spots. She still has her distinctive facial markings, though without the tag, I wouldn’t have recognised her.

There are concerns of what she will eat as she continues to grow, the gardens can only support so much, even with the feeders stocked. It has been a few days since we’ve seen her, or any of them, so I think they must be hibernating. If they sleep away the winter, that will give us time to sort out something with one of the local farms to get meat delivered.

Week 20

Our efforts have stalled over Winter, as barely a scale has been seen since the snows arrived. On one warmer day, some of the little ones were spotted, clinging to the bare branches to take in a few rays of sun, if only for a short while. There was no sign of Gertie.

If one good thing is come from a slow winter, we have been able to get a better look at the tree itself. Since the drakes have moved in, the big tree has also grown faster than it would otherwise. Its branches are thicker and healthier, and other trees nearby are showing similar flourishing. This is not unheard of, similar effects have been seen in plants occupied by floral drakes, so it tracks that trees could be similarly affected.

The ground around the base of the tree bulges, the roots that can be seen above the snow are dense and knotted. It forms quite the hill when the snows come down. I look forward to seeing the drakes emerge again come spring.

Week 24 (Winter’s End)

Not long to go, surely. No fresh snow for a week or two, so what’s there is starting to melt away. There are more sunny days, if still chilly. The tree is starting to show signs of reviving, there are hints of new growth and fresh leaves starting to bud, earlier than usual.

Week 28 (Spring)

The drakes returned with the leaves! The little ones at least, we still haven’t seen any signs of Gertie. There are quite a few of them, at least a full dozen now, but they move so fast they are hard to count. We still haven’t found any evidence of eggs, but it is possible they came from outside before the freeze.

As the trees fill out with leaves again, the west gardens are far wilder now. The branches reach overhead, almost touching in some places. The drakes flit in and out of the sunlight coming through the leaves. We have been able to clear most of the path, but the spaces between the trees are still full of brambles and shrubs.

Week 32

Something large has been spotted moving through the trees, though it is hard to get a good look. I suspect Gertie has continued to grow through her hibernation.

Through the deal made with one of the farms, we’ve been able to start leaving out chunks of meat, and they seem to be well received.

From the toothmarks in the bones left behind, we estimate that Gertie must be at least the size of a pony.

Week 33

Today, on the first properly warm day we’ve had in a while, I’ve finally been able to get a good look at Gertie since her hibernation. I was taking a break, to be out in the fresh air and away from the office for a bit. I’d stopped at one of the newly reclaimed benches, and only closed my eyes for a moment to rest. It only felt like a minute before I was woken by a huff of air on my face.

She is indeed the size of a pony, plus her tail. Tall enough to look me in the face.

Her body is thicker now, hide resembling thick tree bark. Her wings are much smaller in proportion, just ornamental now.

The little ones follow her, stopping to cling to her back and head, but she doesn’t seem bothered by them. They peered around her to chirp at me as I regained my composure.

Lately I’ve taken to keeping aether-candies in my pockets to offer the drakes on my walks, I’m glad I still had some on me as I was inspected. Gertie accepted the treat happily, rumbling deep in her chest. She rumbled and chirped back to me when I spoke to her.

It was a pleasant moment, she sat with me for a while, long enough to get a sketch of her lounging in the sun.

Week 40

Recently, we have been receiving reports of leaf drake sightings from outside the Institute, from other locations around the city. I can only speculate that something about Gertie’s growth is drawing them to the city.

Long have we pondered the origins of the Greater Forest Drakes, as they seem to just appear out of nowhere, with no documented nests or hatchlings, or even sightings of more than one in an area. But I have little doubt that this is what Gertie has grown up into. I still have questions about how the change occured, or why it was just her out of the group as at the start, there was little to differentiate her from the others.

This is still quite the discovery, and I look forward to publishing an official work with our findings. It could well be the start of further studies into the links between drake species, the garden and greater drakes, and maybe even how they relate to true dragons.

After updating the Institute heads on the progression of the study, they are overall happy with the discovery, but were asking some pointed questions on what we plan to now do with the Greater Drake that has taken up residence. She could well continue growing. I pointed out that we may have gotten off lightly, if Gertie had grown into a Greater Rock Drake or a Hooded Drake, things could have turned out very differently. They did not see the humour in that.

Gertie seems to be quite comfortable in the gardens, the other drake species do not seem bothered by her at all, and she shows no inclination to leave. She could well continue growing, but for now she seems to have slowed down at least.

She continues to develop her understanding of language and appears to follow along with a conversation, even if she lacks the ability to respond yet. A lot of the literature on Greater Drakes suggests that this may well come with time, but it might be something for my children or grandchildren to look forward to.

[imaginesmai]

The orange peel theory - Azriel

I saw this post by @marvelsmylife and I thought I would give it a try! I've seen also lots of couples doing this on TikTok, so here's my take on how Azriel would do it. Hope you like it!

Plot: the spring court is beautiful, oranges are beautiful, but there's nothing more beautiful than your mate.

You loved the Spring court, you really did. Unlike Cassian, who couldn’t even get out of his room without sneezing the life out of his body, you spent your time there walking through the beautiful gardens. No matter how terrible Tamlin was, how much you despised the meetings between courts – you loved the Spring court.

All your friends and family were busy that morning, most of them in said meeting. Rhys and Feyre had been the first ones to arrive, Cassian and Azriel following close. You had woken up to an empty bed and cold sheets, your mate’s training not keeping up with your late nights reading. Still, Azriel had left you a short note and a beautiful flower.

You would have spent the morning with Nesta, but she was busy with Elain preparing the last details of her wedding with Lucien. Mor and Amren had chosen to stay in Velaris, and that left you alone in those beautiful gardens.

Time flew by each time you stopped to look at a flower or insect, as you let your body soak the warm sun through the trees. You wouldn’t have noticed the morning rolling away if it wasn’t for your stomach rumbling angrily at you. Deciding leaving the gardens was too much of an effort, you looked around for something to eat.

The meeting would end soon, but you would remain for two days more. There were enough matters to discuss that the high lords needed more than one meeting. As soon as Azriel was free, he would come looking for you – and you didn’t want to waste any time eating when you could explore the beautiful court.

So, when you spotted the orange tree, you made your decision.

It was big enough that you had to step on a bench to grab the closest orange. Once you did, you couldn’t resist grabbing some more. Big and colorful, your mouth watered just at the sight. You ended up on your tiptoes, barely keeping balance, gathering the oranges between your chest and arm.

One of them rolled out of your grasp, but before it fell, shadows gathered around it and brought it back to the group. You smiled instantly, stretching slightly to take the last orange. You felt your body gravitating forward as the tips of your fingers barely grazed it, and just before you could fall over, warm hands rounded your waist.

You were lifted the missing inch and stabilized at the same time, shadows keeping your legs upright. After taking the orange, you barely had time to look at it before you were lowered to the ground, back meeting his hard chest.

“Aren’t you a little shabby for a thief?” Azriel whispered against your ear, holding you close. “Risking your life for a bunch of oranges?”

“Oh, like you would have left me fall” you rolled your eyes, resisting the urge of squirming away when his lips brushed your cheek.

“I could have been away”

“Still”

You turned around, your arms full of oranges, and met his hazel eyes. Azriel could have been miles away, in a different country, that you were sure his shadows would have found a way of keeping you from hurt, just as they always did. You knew it, he knew it, and there was no real concern under his words, just playful banter.

Politics, territorial business and high lords were hard for him, and you could guess the outcome of the meeting in the darkness under his eyes. Still, when you looked at him, they shone a little brighter, his lips curling upwards.

His wings blocked the sun from behind, but some rays peeked through and made him look even more divine than he already was. Only a few hours away, and you already missed him.

His arms circled your waist and he lowered himself until he could kiss you softly, erasing the memories of the previous meeting. He tasted like home, like safety, and you were ready to drop your treats and wrap yourself around your mate.

Barely two seconds into the kiss, it was broken by the loud sound of your stomach reclaiming you back to your previous task. Azriel tore away with raised eyebrows, and burst into a loud laugh at your rosy cheeks.

“It’s past lunch time, don’t judge me” you looked down to your arms. “Want an orange?”

“I would love nothing more than a stolen orange”

You didn’t need words when you were with him, not as you sat on the bench you had climbed on and Azriel took the oranges from your grasp. His dark leathers were a rough contrast with your soft dress, the scars on his hands contrary to your careful touch. He didn’t flinch like he used to when you wrapped your fingers around his, only smiled softly and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

There was no other place you would rather be but on that bench with him, the sun and shadows creating a beautiful landscape full of flowers and colors.

Azriel took the last orange from you and easily peeled its roughness away. His nails were chipped and broken, but he managed to get the whole thing off and hand it to you in small pieces. You gladly let him put the first one in your mouth, happy with not moving a muscle away from him.

“I can do that” you raised a brow as you bit on the juicy fruit.

“And I can do it for you” he bit on the next piece, eyes dropping to your mouth.

You tried grabbing the rest of the orange from him, but he easily brushed you away. It was common for him to do that type of stuff – peeling an orange for you so your hands wouldn’t get dirty, doing your hair in the morning when you were too tired, putting food on your plate before his own.

Those little things had built a comfortable relationship during your years together. You cleaned the blood off his leather when he came back from a mission and he brought you flowers each Sunday. He folded your clothes in a neat pile to you after your bath and you helped him tie his boots when he was sore from training.

The birds chirped around you as he kept peeling oranges, handing you some pieces and eating the rest of them. You watched as he carefully removed the white striped that you always complained about, checking each piece before giving it to you.

“How was the meeting?” you tried eventually, breaking the peaceful silence.

“It was” he shrugged, plucking the last part of the peel before dividing the orange. “Tamlin growled at everything and everyone. Kallias stepped out in the middle of it. Beron and Eris”

“What of Beron and Eris?”

“They were… them”

You knew without words that Beron and Eris had been the worst part of it. Maybe, if it wasn’t for them, Azriel would enjoy the politics of those meetings. He would stand in that room with his wings wide and head high. But they always managed to find something to bring him down, to make him feel less than them. And you would have gladly punched them into the knowing they wouldn’t even get close to the man Azriel was.

Azriel didn’t elaborate the answer for a while, both of you eating quietly. Once he had peeled the fourth orange and you had refused the last part, he started plucking the crumbs from under his nails.

You hoisted your legs up to his own, and made yourself comfortable on his lap. The reaction of having your body close was instant, his muscles going lax and his shoulders dropping.

“Rhys thinks Eris will stick to his part of, you know” Azriel talked softly, as if his shadows wouldn’t inform him of any presence within twenty feet. “But when he’s with his father, with that… smile and attitude, I wish he wouldn’t. I just wish it was different”

“I know” you agreed, pressing your stained lips to his cheeks. “It will be soon”

He turned to look at you and you smiled as brightly and convincingly as you could. Working with Eris was worse than any type of meeting. Having him coming to Velaris, where your home was, and letting him know where the most precious part of him lived was hard enough. But watching him play his enemy in a room full of threats and knowing he knew those things was on a different level.

It broke your heart each time he came back from those meetings, each time his vulnerability became apparent and you could do nothing about it.

Just smile, stay by his side, and stick to the promise of not letting anything happen to any of you.

You tried changing the subject for his sake and yours, anything to make him smile again like a few minutes before. Brushing the sticky stain on his cheek, you mentioned something Nesta had talked about before.

“There is a theory, you know” you started, trying to bite the smile off your lips so he would take you seriously. “About males, and oranges, and peeling them”

“Likely a theory of one of your books” he teased, and when you didn’t confirm neither deny it, he chuckled. “Or Nesta’s. I don’t know which one is worse”

“The theory says, that if your partner peels oranges for you without asking or saying, they love and care about you” you repeated what Nesta had told you a few days ago. “Getting their hands dirty and not minding about it because they love their partners more”

“More than an orange’s peel?” Azriel smiled widely now. “After almost fifty years of relationship, I hope you too love me more than that”

“You’re missing the point”

“It’s a stupid theory”

It was because he did way more than peel oranges for you. And you did way more than change the subject to stupid theories so he would take his mind off the worries. If Azriel had to peel a thousand oranges for you, he would do it. If he was allergic to them, he would still do it.

There was little Azriel wouldn’t do for you. The basics of protecting you, of giving you his love and affection, were already set at the begging of your relationship. But as he thought of the stupid orange peel, he wondered if there was something he wouldn’t do for you.

And he knew that there wasn’t.

“Let me guess” he tugged your legs closer and looked into your eyes with a deep frown of concentration. “Nesta told you about it, just as he has told you about the rest of stupid theories you have put to test. And she has also told Elain and Feyre, and you all have put it to test”

“You’re missing Mor” you smiled, knowing he would make the whole story perfectly.

“Rhys passed, for sure. Lucien too, though he would probably be a little wary and ask about it before doing it, because Elain doesn’t eat too many oranges” he guessed correctly, making you scoff a laugh. “And Cassian asked Nesta to peel his orange”

You burst into a laugh because, just like he had said, had happened.

As you tilted your head back, a ray of sun hit the side of your face and Azriel’s heart started beating a little faster. He would never not find you beautiful, but sometimes, it would hit him just how beautiful you were. How lucky he was, how perfect his mate was. The cauldron had made him wait, had made him suffer, and all of it was worthy from the moment he laid his eyes on you.

“I love you” he smiled, Eris and Beron long gone from his mind. “Even if you’re a shaggy thief”

“I love you too”

Azriel closed his eyes and let the sun bake his skin. Having you in his arms always felt good, no matter where you were. Spring court, Velaris, your home. He could be lying in a battlefield with you in his arms, safe and sound, and it would feel like heaven.

The meeting had been shitty, and the two days left in that court would be too. But if enduring it and peeling oranges for you would get him that kind of peace, he was ready for it to last forever.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Let me know if you want me to do an Azriel taglist!

[cressidagrey]

frozen deep blue but you painted me golden

Summary:

Kora feels self conscious. Thankfully, her mate knows how to fix that. 

Warning:

This is literally pure smut people, so NSFW applies. Otherwise: Size kink ( Cassian is massive and she is smol), Use of Mirrors, Mirror Sex? Spanking, Magical Asthma (Is that a thing? I made it a thing.) 

(Beautiful dividers thanks to the lovely @tsunami-of-tears)

Kora stared at herself in the mirror.

Took in the white hair that fell to her waist in long waves…took in the straight eyebrows and the blue eyes that she had inherited from her mother…

She let her eyes track downwards…over the lacy nightgown she wore. Foam green…lacy straps that crisscrossed beneath her breasts…clinging to her curves.

Not that there was much in the way of curves it could cling to.

There had never been much.

Even that stupid nightgown… Kora had needed to have it hemmed and the straps taken in so that they didn’t keep slipping off her shoulders.

Kora could probably fault all that on her mother’s pregnancy complications. The same pregnancy complications that had resulted in her being born early. And the fact that most of the healers hadn’t truly believed that she was going to get older than a few days.

Jokes on them. Well, mostly.

She was…fine. If one ignored the weak lungs, the fact that she managed to catch every cold that went around, had never really reached the height of an adult and it was seemingly near impossible for her to put on any weight…but other than that she was fine. It could be worse at least.

Kora just wished…She just wished that maybe her breasts were a smidgen bigger than they were. That she looked more…womanly.

Instead, she looked… She looked like a porcelain doll. She had heard that more than once. Like something that should be put behind glass and not be touched, for fear of breaking it.

Whatever Kora did…she was definitely never going to manage to look sexy. That much was certain.

Kora pulled her eyes from the mirror and walked to the bed, scaling the height of it and curling herself together beneath the sheets.

She should stop thinking like that, she knew that. It wasn’t going to…give her anything. It was just going to make her feel horrible about herself.

Kora buried herself underneath the duvet, the lacy nightgown slipping further off her shoulder, exposing the white, slender skin underneath.

She knew that she was being silly and vain, but it had always niggled at her that she didn’t quite match the beauty standards of the Winter Court. Kora was petite, fragile, and delicate, and the word ‘sexy’ had never crossed anyone's mind whenever they thought or spoke of her.

She wasn’t strong and muscular…she wasn’t…She was none of these things. 

And so she stewed, in the weak light of the bedroom. She hadn’t bothered to shut off the faelights yet.

Kora knew her husband would come to bed and he would manage to stub a toe and curse under his breath and wake her up even when he tried to be quiet…Somehow he had the incredible ability to be unheard in battle and a bull in a china shop while trying to be quiet and not wake her.

Some things never changed. Even after 300 years.

So Kora closed her eyes, and snuggled deeper in the blankets…and just minutes later, one eye slipped open as she heard the door open, a smile stretching over her face.

There he was.

Her husband's hulking form filled the doorway, massive, membranous black wings held high and proud as he came into the bedroom they shared.

Even close to 300 years after they had first met, Kora still thought him to be the most handsome male she had ever laid eyes on.

Even after 300 years the sight of him still made her heart race. 

Cassian’s wings flared out from behind him, spanning the entire space of the door frame, casting a shadow across his tanned face. Even though the room was mostly dark, Kora could see every single muscle on his body tensing and shifting as he walked through the door. He was utterly magnificent.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Princess?” Cassian greeted her and she smiled at him.

“Good evening, husband,” Kora gave back quietly, just as he moved to unsheathe his weapons, carefully placing them on their rack.

“Give me 5 minutes,” he requested and she hummed her agreement, watching the play of muscles underneath his skin as he pulled his shirt over his head, ferocious wings trembling and stretching behind him…

Kora’s throat dried as even more of his muscular form was exposed to her. It was a sight that, despite seeing it every night, never lost its effect on her. The scars on his body, the rippling muscles and tanned skin. She was transfixed.

It didn’t take her long for her gaze to linger below his waistline, where her eyes traced the V-lines that were visible above the top of his pants.

Cassian smirked, noticing her gaze, and unbuckled his pants, letting them fall to the floor. He didn’t miss the flush that crept over her cheeks as he removed his clothes.

“Are you ogling me, Princess?” he chuckled, his voice low and gravelly as he walked over to the bed where she was sitting.

So handsome. So beautiful.

She would never quite get over the fact that the mother thought it to be prudent to make them mates. Would never get over the privilege of sharing his life, his bed, his love. He was everything.

Cassian prowled onto the bed, his movements fluid and silent like a predator stalking its prey. He knelt over her, his wings spreading out behind him as if to wrap Kora in their embrace.

“5 minutes,” he repeated.

She swallowed and modded.

It didn’t take Cassian 5 minutes. It took him less than that.

He stepped out of the bathing chamber, skin still damp, the fanlight making it glow nearly golden…the dark warrior markings swirling over acres and acres of muscles.

Eager tonight, wasn’t she? She reflected drily, as he didn’t even bother with a stitch of clothing, the towel getting thrown over a chair as he prowled towards the bed.

Beautiful.

Beautiful and all hers.

She watched unashamedly, the muscular thighs, strong like tree trunks…the muscles that covered his stomach and chest… and the thick, half-hard cock between those thighs.

The sight of him, naked and still damp from the bath, made her shiver. He was magnificent, and he loved her. Somehow this beautiful, powerful, warrior had loved her, been mated with her, and taken her to bed.

He prowled across the room and climbed onto the bed, and Kora found herself leaning back, a strange sort of shyness falling across her. In all of its glory, his muscled body was all too beautiful and powerful, and next to him, her small and weak frame felt…inadequate.

And still, her body reacted with a rush of wetness between her thighs, before he had even laid a single finger on her. 

And then he did lay a finger on her. His hand reached out to her face, and she gasped as he gently cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, his skin still slightly damp, and she closed her eyes, revelling in the feeling of his calloused hand tracing her sharp jawline and the curve of her cheek. Then it was on her shoulder, his touch so gentle, and then her chest.

His fingers traced small, lazy circles on her collarbones, and Kora found herself arching her back into his touch, silently asking for more.

Cassian tipped up her chin with these strong and broad hands that could span her whole jaw if he wanted them to. He kissed her, a soft brush of his lips on hers and she moaned against him, her smaller hands squabbling against his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said softly as he pulled back, catching one of her hands and pressing a kiss against every single fingertip. “How was your shopping trip? Were you successful?”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her back arched as Cassian’s lips traced the edge of her jaw and down to her neck.

“Tiring,” she muttered, tipping her head back to bare more of her neck, relishing as he left a trail of tiny kisses across her pale skin. “The shops were crowded, as usual.”

She hadn’t been successful in the slightest.

Seemingly every piece of clothing she had pulled in the shops hung off her…and maybe it also hadn’t helped to see that her friends…her family… Their bodies were strong. Healthy. Fitting in clothing off the rack and looking beautiful.

Her own body…it was none of these things.

It wasn’t fierce…or strong.

She was never going to be able to go head-to-head with Cassian in the sparring ring like Mor or Nesta or Feyre could.

Elain maybe didn’t want to, but she still could. If she wanted to learn, she could.  Elain could still take a hike without needing to ride on a reindeer because otherwise, Kora was probably going to faint.

It wasn’t like Cassian hadn’t tried to teach Kora.

Well, once. Once and no more, because it had ended with him fetching Madja, as she had struggled to breathe.

After that, she had been taught how to use a single knife to the best of her ability, which meant that the lesson was pretty much limited to Stick them with the pointy end, Princess.

She wished she could just… just for once… “Alas, no luck today,” Kora waved him off, leaning to press another kiss against his lips.

She could have this though. At least this.

She opened her mouth slightly in invitation, and that was all Kora needed to do. She gave him the opening and Cassian swooped in and made her forget anything else.

His tongue tangled with hers, a soft sigh escaping her as her hands fisted in his dark hair, and he plundered her mouth for everything she had to give.

Broad hands pulled her towards him, fisting into her nightgown… Kora shut off the faelights with a wave of her hand.  She couldn’t stand it today…couldn’t stand the look of his hazel eyes on her body.

In the dark, she couldn’t see him. Only the feeling of his hands, his mouth, his body as it pressed into hers.

His tongue explored every part of her mouth eagerly, and a wave of heat flushed over her as she felt his strong hands slide up the sides of her nightgown.

For once, there was a small, selfish part of Kora that she hoped that the lights were going to stay out. In the dark, there was no one to see every dip, crevice, and blemish on her body. Cassian wouldn’t see how lacking her body was in comparison to his own. He wouldn’t… 

“What’s wrong?”

Kora stilled, her eyes widened, and she silently cursed.

Cassian lifted his mouth from her neck and was looking down at her, searching for something in her eyes. He knew her far too well. It had been stupid of her not to realise that he would pick up on her suddenly shutting off the faelights when usually, she was the one… who liked to look her fill. 

“Nothing is wrong,” she told him, leaning forward to catch her mouth with her own, but he stopped her. 

“You turned off the lights,” Cassian returned, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders, keeping her still.

“Maybe I just wanted it to be dark,” Kora said quickly, hoping he would drop it.

She could see his silhouette in the shadows, the hard lines of his muscles. Cassian was quiet for a long moment and for a second she thought he was going to leave it…but he never did.

“You’re hiding from me,” he said, his voice flat but not unkind. “Why?”

She wasn’t hiding. It was just…It was…

“I look like a 12-year-old boy,” Kora suddenly blurted out. She didn’t look like…she wasn’t…

Cassian snorted, the faelights coming back on with a blink. He watched her, his eyes soft. 

“You definitely don’t,” Cassian gave back drily.  “For one, 12-year-old boys don’t have these,”  he said with a waggle of his eyebrows, his thumb tracing her breast through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

Kora’s cheeks glowed red, and she gave a frustrated huff.

“That’s not what I meant!” she said, swatting his hand away from her. “You know exactly what I meant. I don’t have any…curves. For cauldron’s sake, I am smaller than even Amren!” she said weakly.

“You are. Itty Bitty,” Cassian agreed, a bright smile on his face. 

Kora bristled, pulling her nightgown tighter around her body. “You don’t have to say that you know. I am very well aware of my…deficiencies,” she said sourly.

“I have eyes,” he disagreed, his hand cupping her chin and tipping it up to look at him. “You are smaller than Amren. That’s a fact. But that doesn’t mean that you aren’t lovely. Your body is exquisite…perfect. As if it was sculpted by the Mother herself, meant for me.”

She didn’t believe him.

“Where did this even come from?” Cassian wondered, his brows furrowing. “You never cared before.” 

No, she didn’t. Normally at least. It was easy to not care when she had a mate who pretty much worshipped the ground she walked on, who was so enthusiastic in their lovemaking that she had never once doubted that he wanted her. 

“Mor, Nesta and  Feyre, even Elain…they can fight. Hold a sword,” Kora said weakly. “I need a ride a reindeer if I want to take as much as a hike.”

His lips came down to press against her temple in a gentle kiss.

“You are worth a thousand swords on the battlefield,” he said quietly, but she only gave a slight scoff. “You can hold my sword all you want,” he tried next and she glared at him.

“Don’t make it dirty,” she snapped at him, making Cassian laugh, before he grew serious. 

“So what if they can? Your skills simply lie somewhere else. I would make a horrible spymaster. And I don’t think that Az is coming for my job any time soon either,” Cassian gave back earnestly.

She rolled her eyes at that, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased, but Kora wasn’t going to be so distracted so easily.

“What would you know? You’ve never had to be a petite, delicate flower that men have to carry everywhere,” she retorted bitterly. “I just wish for once I was strong enough to carry you around,” Kora sighed.

He just snorted. “Ask Az about it,” he suggested drily. “I am sure he is more than willing to tell you how lugging around my heavy ass is not some grand romantic gesture.”

Kora’s imagination immediately conjured up the image of Azriel awkwardly attempting to carry Cassian’s huge frame through a forest like a limp noodle.

Despite her mood, she couldn’t help but give a huffed laugh.

 But it still didn’t fix the root of the problem. 

“I am useless,” Kora said weakly.  “That’s what I am, Cassian.”

Her mate looked at her like she had just sprouted a second head. 

“You are not useless,” Cassian disagreed sharply. “Where would we be if we didn’t have you? You keep Az from going mute all the way. Rhys and you have your long philosophical discussions and you are Mor’s favourite shopping partner…Your research skills are unmatched, and if we didn’t have you, we wouldn’t be a proper court at all. We would probably just be a ragtag band of misfits,” he teased her. “You bring some organisation and decoration to whatever you do, Princess. Even Amren likes you, sweetheart. You are not useless.” 

Fine. Fine, she would give him that. 

“I suppose…” she muttered into his chest. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m weak and sickly and…you deserve better.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian snorted.  “Are you warm enough?” He asked her.

“See? Even now you need to worry about me so I don’t get sick. If Nesta was your mate, you wouldn’t need to worry about that! You wouldn’t need to worry about her fainting!”

He chuckled as he pulled her back against his chest, wrapping one warm arm around her petite frame, drawing her against the heat of his body.

“I rather like tending to you,” he said smugly. “As much as I love her, I am rather relieved that Nesta is not the one in my bed…she’d likely stab me in my sleep,” he told her drily. “And the fact that you are ill doesn’t make you weak,” Cassian disagreed with her, pressing another kiss against her forehead. “That is nothing you can help, Princess, and it doesn’t make you weak or worth any less in my eyes. You are my mate and my wife and the love of my life. You gave me your love, Kora. You gave me a home. You took a bastard as your husband, even when you deserved an emperor,” he told her softly, his eyes warm. 

“I didn’t marry a bastard, I married the General of the Night Court,” she disagreed, tipping her head back to press a kiss against his chin. “I only ever wanted you.“ Kora admitted softly. 18 years old. One look. And it had been done. Him or nobody.

“You have me, Princess,” he told her, pulling her tighter against his body. “Every last piece of me. Always.”

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, and his touch made heat flush over her skin, stirring something inside of her.

“There is nothing wrong with your body,” he told her softly. “You are beautiful.”

She shivered against him, the warmth of his body and the sweetness of his words sent a rush of affection through her.

“There wasn’t one thing in the shops that fit me today. Everything was too big or too long. Unless I went into the children’s section.” Kora muttered petulantly.

Cassian chuckled, his hand roaming over her body, sliding over her hip and the pale white skin of her stomach, and up to her chest.

“Children’s clothes would be a little too small, Princess.” He commented as he began to toy with the neckline of her nightgown, slowly pulling it down to expose more of her skin.

“Why don’t we go to your favourite seamstress tomorrow?” He suggested softly. “I think you could use a new dress. Or three.”

Kora shivered as his hand brushed the side of her breast, and she curled closer to his touch. “Perhaps,” she mumbled, distracted by the feeling of his strong body against her, and the feeling of his touch.

His other hand came up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and his mouth returned to her neck, kissing the sensitive skin there. Kora shivered, her eyes fluttering shut as heat washed over her body.

“That still doesn’t fix the problem,” she mumbled.

“What problem?” he murmured against her skin, his tongue tracing the edge of her ear and finding the spot that made her shiver. Kora arched her back in response, a soft moan escaping her mouth. “That the store doesn’t carry your size?” Cassian asked her.

No. That wasn’t the problem. She was the problem.

“That I… don’t look…” she struggled to find the words.

His hands on her body stilled and then tightened.

“Be careful how you speak about my wife.”

Her breath hitched as he held her tighter, his body flush against hers and pressed into the softness of her own. Kora could feel the hard lines of his body against her back, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

She trembled.

“Is that why you wanted to hide? Why did you shut off the light?” Cassian asked her softly. “Because you don’t feel beautiful?”

The light had been a coward’s way of hiding, a pitiful attempt to spare Cassian from seeing her body and his eventual disappointment.

“Yes,” she muttered softly. Kora closed her eyes, but he gently tipped her chin up towards his own.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered her softly.

Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and was met with Cassian’s handsome face, his dark eyes watching her.

“Did you think I didn’t like seeing you naked?” he asked her gently. Cassian was always telling her that he wanted her, desired her, that he liked looking at her like that…but she never truly believed him.

“Not…entirely,” she admitted, shifting her eyes away from his gaze.

Suddenly he was moving.

“What are you doing?” Kora asked as her husband left the bed to cross the room and pick up that dreaded mirror. she had just been standing in front of.

He lifted it like it weighed nothing.

He carried it over to her side of the bed, putting it down carefully.

“Cassian…what are you doing?” she repeated, her voice shaky. He didn’t answer, as he joined her on the bed, kneeling behind her and arranging her body so that she had no other choice but to face herself in the mirror, forcing her to look at her own reflection. 

“I am going to show you how fucking beautiful you are,” Cassian told her simply.

She swallowed, trembling in the grasp of his big hands, as he slipped the sheets from her body. Heat flooded her face as he bared her body, leaving her with no other option but to look at the reflection of her and him in the mirror.

Kora knew she was tiny, small, and weak…and there it was, right in front of her. The huge muscular form of her husband wrapped himself around her dainty frame, his huge hands against the pale white skin of her body.

“We are going to play,” Cassian said softly.

Her breath hitched at his words, and she swallowed thickly. Play. 

They didn’t play each time they took their pleasure in the marriage bed…but if they did…if they did play…if they played and the only way to get Cassian to stop wasn’t the word stop but instead “Red”...It meant that she would end the evening strung out with pleasure and absolutely wrecked. 

“Yes,” she breathed and he chuckled.

“Good, Princess,“ he praised her. Cassian’s hand began to roam over her body, sliding over her hip and stomach, and then up to her chest.

Kora gasped and arched her back slightly, pressing back against the heat of his body, letting herself give in to his touch.

“The rule this time is really simple,” Cassian told her softly. “You stop watching and I’ll stop touching you,” he warned her, his voice warm and deep. “You’ll look at yourself…and you’ll see exactly what I see when I watch you.”

Her breathing was shaky and her heart rate had picked up in speed, beating a nervous beat in her chest.

“Alright,” Kora whispered, her eyes meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. His eyes roamed over her form and then met hers once again, watching her with hunger.

His hands roamed over her body slowly, caressing her pale milky skin, feeling the softness and gentle curves of her body.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers tracing her hip. “So small… so delicate.”

That nightgown she wore was tucked over her head, leaving her utterly bare, his hands kneading her chest, callouses rubbing against rosy nipples and delicate skin.

“Look at yourself,” Cassian cooed. “You don’t look like a 12-year-old boy. I love every freckle on your face. Like constellations in the night sky.”

She shivered at his touch, his deep voice in her ear and the feel of his chest against her bare back. Cassian’s hot breath against the sensitive skin of her neck was driving her crazy.

His hand was roaming over her chest, massaging the sensitive flesh, while the other rested on her stomach, keeping her close to him.

“I hate those freckles,” she mumbled stubbornly.

And still, she couldn’t help but watch as her nipples pebbled against his touch, her breasts growing heavy and warm as arousal grew low in her belly.

“I love those freckles,” he countered, and to prove his point he leaned down and captured her shoulder between his teeth, gently nibbling the sensitive skin there.

Kora let out a soft gasp, arching her body up into his touch and leaning back against his chest.

She watched as he marked her skin, her gaze meeting his in the mirror as his tongue caressed the pale skin of her shoulder, leaving a red bruise there.

“And I love the colour of your eyes. Blue like the sky on a winter's day,” Cassian continued.

Her face flushed at his praise, and she fidgeted slightly, but his hand on her hip kept her from moving away.

He nuzzled into her hair, breathing deeply, taking in her scent.

“And your hair…so soft, and silky.” He continued. "I love grabbing it." He tugged at it as if to prove his point. He twisted her body, just enough to fold his hulking form over hers…just enough to…to suck one pebbled nipple into his mouth.

Kora shivered against him, her head falling back against his shoulder in an arch, the feeling of his mouth against her breast making heat pool low in her stomach. She couldn’t help but let out a gasp at the sensation.

Her eyes closed.

He stopped.

He bit her earlobe, “I said, don’t look away, Princess.” His voice was a rough growl, full of desire and warning. A shiver ran through her body at his words, and she quickly looked up once more at the mirror. His form completely enveloped hers, making her look even smaller in comparison.

“That’s better,” he breathed against her ear, his tongue tracing the outer shell. “Now, what was I saying? Oh right…your beautiful body.”

”I love your breasts. They are beautiful. They may be small but doesn’t keep them from being oh-so sensitive, does it?” He told her, nearly conversationally…and then he caught one between thumb and forefinger…a pinch, a tug… she squeaked at the shot of pure arousal. Her hips bucked and she bit her lip, trying to restrain herself. She was sensitive everywhere… especially there.

“Yes,” she gasped as he repeated the motion, a flush painting itself across her face.

“Gods…so sweet,” he murmured against her ear as his hands continued to tease and play with her. “Every inch of you is perfect.”

He let off her breasts but she should have known that that was only the beginning.

“I love your waist because I can simply do this,“ Cassian said softly, wrapping both hands over her waist and spanning it completely.

Her eyes fluttered shut once again as he wrapped his big hands around her waist, his touch warm on her skin. She felt the heat of his body against her back, almost completely enveloping her. He nipped her ear, “I said look. Watch yourself as I touch you.”

Kora shivered, her eyes opening to stare at their reflection.  Her skin looked pale white against his golden tan, and suddenly the size difference between them was painfully obvious. He looked so big and strong, completely dwarfing her small frame in his arms as his hands roamed over her skin. Cassian let go of her waist, keeping one massive arm banded around her, making it impossible for her to move away, as he reached between her thighs, chuckling softly.

“You are drenched for me, Princess,” Cassian cooed. Kora couldn’t help but let out a shuddering gasp as his fingers found the warm flesh of her thighs. He was right… she could feel it as he reached slowly towards her core.

“Yes,” Kora breathed.

He spread her open and she blushed scarlet at the lewd visual. But that was nothing against his voice: “ I love your cunt. I love every pretty pink part of you I get to press my fingers, my tongue, my cock into.”

She shuddered at his words and the filthy image they conjured in her mind, and she desperately wanted to look away from the mirror as her face grew hotter, but his arm kept her pinned against him. She was completely at his mercy.

“Cassian…” Kora breathed.

The arm around her waist tightened, pulling her more firmly against him.

“No shutting your eyes,” he warned her, his voice thick.

And then… then one finger grazed upwards and she nearly flinched in his arms much to his amusement. “And I love your clit. Because I only need to do this…” he whispered, circling that little nub at the apex of her thighs, the feeling immediate. She keened.  “I love this one noise that you make…this one. “

Kora arched her body as his finger began to pleasure her, and a moan escaped her lips. She was sensitive, and every touch sent sparks up her spine, making her gasp and squirm against him.

“Cassian…please…”

“Eyes open, Princess. Or I’ll stop,” he warned her, pulling back slightly and she made a noise in protest. Her eyes snapped open again, and the image in the mirror caused a fresh wave of heat to wash over her body.

His big form towered over her small body, pinning her completely and making her look smaller than she already was.

“And your little cunt doesn’t want me to stop, does it?” Another gush of wetness between her thighs. 

“No…please…don’t stop….” She panted. “Please…Please…” She didn’t know what she begged for. For him to keep touching her, or to take her right here. Both sounded good at the moment.

He chuckled, nipping her ear and then the soft skin of her neck.

“So polite for me, Princess,” he whispered, his voice low. “I like this version of you. Begging for me…”

Kora choked back a moan and he nipped her neck in retaliation.

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian threatened her sharply.“I want to hear you. I earned every fucking moan,” he told her fiercely.

Kora choked on another moan that wanted to escape…his reaction was immediate. A sharp, stinging slap right against the soft flesh of her thighs. Her cunt gushed with wetness. Her gasp of pain turned into a gasp of pleasure. Pain shot up her thigh and right into the core of her body.

“I thought I told you I wanted to be to hear you moan, Princess,” he reminded her darkly.

Her gasp of pain turned into a gasp of pleasure. Pain shot up her thigh and right into the core of her body.

“I thought I told you I wanted to be to hear you moan, Princess,” he reminded her dark.“Next time, I’ll do that to your poor cunt,” he warned her, and she gasped wide eyed, staring at him the mirror. He was watching her with a look of pure male satisfaction. “

Her breath caught in her throat at his threat.

He hadn’t done it before, at least not with that much force…and Kora couldn’t help the way his harsh words made a little shiver run down her spine.

“Y-you wouldn’t,” she said, her voice slightly shaky.

He raised an eyebrow at her, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “Are you testing me, Princess? Because I’ll do it.”

She was shivering with…soemthing, a blush staining her cheeks as she bit her lips. 

She trusted Cassian with anything. Trusted him never to lay a hand on her in anger. But the thought of him…

Cassian chuckled, the sound warm and still a little bit mean. “You want me to, don’t you, Princess?” he teased her. She swallowed. “Be a good girl and you’ll get whatever you want,” he promised her.”

A rush of excitement ran through her at this, and it was hard not to shiver. She could be good for him, she could.

Cassian’s fingers teased the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, and a moan escaped her. 

His hand went back to her clit and she pushed her ass back against him, feeling his hard and heavy cock…he chuckled as she rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat. He shifted them slightly, fitting her cock against her, but not pressing into her.

“Get me wet, Princess,” he said softly. “Come all over me. Watch yourself.”

And she did.

She watched that expression on her face, the open mouth, the messy hair…watched her gushing cunt and his massive cock pressed against her, teasing her…she wanted him inside her.

She panted and writhed against him, rubbing against him like she needed to rub against his body. He was so big and hard, and she wanted him.

She chased her first climax… she tried to touch herself but he didn’t let her with a laugh, just letting her rub against his cock and played with her breasts, even as she grew frustrated. Kora growled in annoyance, and that was what he seemed to have been waiting for her.

One single sharp stinging slap, right on her lewdly stretched cunt. Her clit just so peaking out from its hood…and she convulsed.

Kora let out a strangled cry and her whole body went rigid as pain bloomed and pleasure washed over her, leaving her dizzy and breathless. The pain was immediate and stinging, but the pleasure…It was hard to breathe, and the waves of ecstasy made black spots dance around the edges of her vision.

It wasn’t the first time that he got rough with her. But it was rare that he got this rough with her…that he was willing to let her feel more than just the edge of pain and pleasure.

And Cassian was enjoying this, she could tell. His body was warm and tense, and she could hear his uneven breathing in her ear.

Kora slumped against him, her breathing coming in sharp gasps, trembling like a rag doll.

But Cassian wasn’t done with her at all.

“Every fucking inch of your body is gorgeous. And I’ll spend the rest of your life telling you that.” he whispered.

Her hips weakly twitched, the blunt head of his cock catching onto her entrance. She let out a low gasp when she felt him press against her entrance.

“Please…” she said softly. “Please….”

She couldn’t find the words for what she needed, but her body was already responding to his touch.

“Yes, Princess?” His voice was soft against her ear, and he nipped gently at her neck, “What is it? What do you want?”

She tried to push herself back onto him, but his hands were firm as they held her hips in place.

“Please…I need you,” she panted.

“Need me where, Princess?” He teased, his hands roaming over her hips and thighs. “Where exactly do you need me?”His words sent a wave of heat through her body, and she whimpered.

“You know where,” she said, but there was enough pout in her voice to convey the begging she didn’t want to admit to. He chuckled, his hands still roaming over her body.

“I have a few ideas,” he answered as his mouth moved to the sensitive skin of her shoulder. “But I want to hear you say it.”

Kora groaned.  “I need you…inside of me…please, Cassian,” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she flushed furiously.

“Oh, do you? You are being so polite, Princess,“ he teased her. “Of course, you get what you ask for.“

And he pushed inside her, with one blunt thrust, her body needing to yield

“Oh, gods,” Kora choked out. It hurt, in a way that was sheer pleasure, the stretch of her body accommodating his size. Her hips ached, her cunt flexed against his cock.

She whimpered as he entered her, his big body pushing against her.

Her body was spread wide to accommodate him, and she shivered at the sensation. 

“Is this what you wanted, Princess?” He asked, his voice low and rough.

Kora took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “Yes,” she panted, “Please…keep going.”

He pulled back slightly, then rocked forward, and Kora heard a breathy moan slip past her lips and into the air. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her back, “What was that?” He asked, rocking his hips against hers.

She whimpered, staring at herself in the mirror.

Her cheeks were a rosy colour and her lips were parted slightly, but her eyes were wide and glassy and…all she could see was thick, massive cock that was spearing her, slick and shiny with her wetness. 

“C-Cassian…” she panted, her legs were weak, and she was completely supported by him, but his hands gripped her hips tightly.

One large, calloused hand braced against her stomach, spanning the space between her hipbones. And then…then he pressed down lightly.

“Oh gods,” Kora choked out. She could feel him. She could feel him.

Kora was pinned right there, pinned in place between his cock and his hand, pinned and impaled from the inside and outside and…

She gasped when she felt his hand against her abdomen. The sudden pressure from the outside made her feel even more full if that was possible.

“See?” Cassian rumbled. “Look down, Princess,” he coaxed her and she did. Kora could see her belly bulge out where he rested within her. She couldn’t help the shudder that worked its way through her body at that realisation. 

“Such a good girl, Princess. You are taking me so well,” he cooed.  It was hard to speak as the pressure built and his words washed over her, but she whined softly in answer.

Every movement he made caused a new wave of sensations that travelled up her spine and made her see stars.

Kora’s head fell back against his shoulder, exposing her neck. Cassian didn’t miss the opportunity, immediately licking and nipping the sensitive skin.

“You like this, Princess?” He asked, still not moving much and simply rocking his hips slightly, just enough to send a jolt through her body.

Kora trembled, all she could do was whimper softly in response. She could barely form coherent thoughts and was struggling to keep her eyes open. He groaned a low, guttural sound that reverberated through her body, and she whimpered.

“Tell me,” he murmured, and the sound of his voice against her skin made her whimper again. “Tell me how much you like it, Princess.”

She bit her lip, her breath hitching slightly at his words, and then she swallowed.

“I love it,” she whispered, and her voice broke slightly “Please…”

He took her hand, calloused fingers wrapped around soft, manicured ones, placing it against her belly, right there where he had just pressed down.

She could feel him. Could feel the hard length of him underneath her skin and she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her.

„Feel,” he demanded his voice as clipped as every other he had ever given. “Feel me fucking you, Princess.” His words sent a jolt through her, and she gasped. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and her head lolled back against his shoulder.

“Cassian…feels…so good… “ she panted. Her thoughts were fuzzy, and she couldn’t focus on anything but the sensations that his body was causing to race through hers. “So full…I’m so full…” she whimpered, pressing her hand against her abdomen.

His laugh was low and dark, a contrast to her gasps,

“That is right, Princess. You are full, absolutely stuffed full with me,” he said and ground his hips against hers to emphasize his point, and Kora moaned, a soft shudder running down her spine.

Everything felt hot and hazy, and Kora’s mind was spinning. She felt like she could barely breathe. “Please…” she whispered, her voice ragged. "Please, I can…"

“Watch,” his mate insisted.

She did. Her eyes caressed over his hulking form wrapped around her…over her arched spine, her heaving breast…her cunt, allegedly spread and dripping. Over his cock, that disappeared inside her…

Her cheeks flushed and her breath hitched at the sight. She was barely even aware of the sounds that came from her mouth, high keening, gasps, small whimpers as sparks of pleasure shot through. Kora pressed her hand against the bulge in her abdomen, feeling him recede and fill her to the brim…, her moans growing more frantic as his pace increased.

“Oh gods…oh gods…” she panted. She couldn’t keep her eyes open as she shivered in his arms, her breathing growing erratic, as were his thrusts. “C-Cassian” she whimpered, “I…I can’t…I’m going to…”

“Watch!” He snapped.

And somehow she did. Kora watched.

Her whole body arched, and tensed, and then she fell apart. Kora felt like she was on fire as the waves of pleasure hit her like a tidal wave. She moaned as she lost herself, and everything was white hot for several moments. And she watched. Watched the shudders work over her body…watched the expression of utter rapture in her face…the way her body clenched down onto the cock pistoning in and out of her…

Her vision blurred, and she clenched around him. Her breath caught in her throat with a moan as she shook, and her legs gave out suddenly as her climax hit her. Her hips rocked against him desperately, each movement sending a new shiver through her body. She trembled as the last waves ebbed away, her head falling back against him.

“O-oh…Cassian…gods…I…” She could hardly speak, her vision was hazy and her mind wasn’t working properly. She panted desperately, trying to catch her breath. He hadn’t stopped moving his hips, although his pace was slower now and deeper.

The new sensations made her gasp, and for a moment she tensed up again.

“I…I can’t…it’s too…” she stammered, trying to get away, but he pinned her in place, holding her right there, like a vessel of his pleasure to be filled as he continued to fuck her, slamming his hips agaist hers. 

“You can, Princess,” he said, his voice still low and rough with lust. “You can take it…and you will.”

Kora whimpered, “No…I…I…oh…please…please please please…”

She didn’t even know what she was asking for, but her hips still rocked against his, the pleasure sparking across her skin.

His hand pressed against her stomach again, and Kora shivered at the feeling. She moaned, and his thrusts grew faster once again. His pace was relentless now, and Kora whined, arching her back.

She let out a breathy moan, and her eyelids fluttered. Her body was tense, but so full of pleasure that she couldn’t think straight. “C-Cassian…I can’t…too…too much…I…”

She could hardly form sentences.

He groaned softly, and his hips moved even faster. Kora was nearly sobbing with sensations, her hips twitching against his and her body tensing again.

Her orgasm crashed into her, the mix of pleasure and pain resulting in a hoarse cry. Too much. too much…

Her body shook, moans and whimpers escaped her gasping lips, and she went boneless in his arms, unable to do anything but quiver and moan, barely even noticing when he slammed into her one final time with a guttural growl. 

Cassian came with a roar, his body stiffening behind hers as his hips jerked into hers. He slumped against her, and Kora felt his laboured breathing against her neck. Her breath was still coming in sharp gasps, and she had no thoughts left to form. She just kneeled there, trembling, as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Cassian pressed a soft kiss behind her ear, and she heard him whisper something, but she couldn’t catch it. The words sounded jumbled, her blood rushing in her ears…her breathing came in sharp gasps, hurting in her chest like it always did when she had physically exerted herself too much. 

A sharp cough left her throat and Cassian moved immediately.

Her mind was still to sluggish, her body trembling, that she couldn’t protest, even if she wanted to. He laid her on her side, and just a moment later, he had fitted the nebuliser over her nose and mouth. A trinket from dawn filled with medication that would ease the worst of her coughs and make it easier for her to breath. It hummed to life with push of his magic. 

Tears shot in her eyes as she weakly tried to bat him away, but Cassian held firm, keeping it in place with one hand and bracketing her trembling body with his own, holding her in place. 

“No, Princess,” Cassian said firmly. She knew arguing would be fruitless, but she still tried. Still reach up and grasped his wrist, as the mist entered her nose and mouth, trying to get him to stop. 

Cassian only pressed a kiss against her temple, covering them with the thick goose feather stuffed duvet that they only had because Kora was always cold. “No,” he repeated calmly. “Your lungs are roiling. Just breathe, Princess,” he told her and she tried to shift her head to glare at him, her body still trembling. 

“Don’t give me that luck,” Cassian said with a snort. “You were worse to me when I got my wings injured. Don’t think I don’t remember your very creative threats,” he pointed out drily. “I am willing to fuck you until you can’t breath, but not at the cost of your health,”  Cassian said quietly as he held her tighter. “And I hope this has cleared up how utterly beautiful your body is.” Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she pressed closer to him, not wanting to think about how much of a hassle she was.  Kora tried to stifle another cough, but the nebuliser left her throat feeling dry and it came out anyway, sending a shudder through her body.

She pressed his wrist again, and he let up, letting her talk. 

“I…I’m sorry,” she whispered meekly, but even the short sentences made her breath catch in her chest. Immediately, the nebuliser was replaced against her mouth.   

“Hush, princess,” he said, his voice was low and comforting. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You are beautiful and perfect, and I will not allow you to say anything less.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kora’s mouth, despite her discomfort. His words may be corny, but she couldn’t deny that they made her feel better.

She nestled against him, closing her eyes as she tried to focus on her breathing. It was still ragged, but not quite as bad as before.

Cassian’s hands moved gently through her hair, the steady motion was soothing and, combined with the nebuliser, and she started to feel a little better.

“Do you believe me now?” Cassian wondered softly, pushing her hair from her face. “For me, you are the most beautiful creature in all of fucking Prythian.”

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Would you consider a request for teenage Suguru and Reader having meet-cutes when he attends missions? She's an amateur photographer who can see Curses, and is desperately trying to catch one on camera. He keeps finding her in dangerous places, but she's really persistent with it, even when he's telling her off 💀😶‍🌫️

Snapshots and Sorcery

A/N: Hi anon! Sorry this took so long. Thank you for such a cute and unique idea! I had fun writing this fic. Also I know that in JJK, Nanami specifically says cursed spirits don't show up in photos but let's ignore that and have this be minorly au-ish. Pairing: Teen! Suguru x Fem!Reader Warnings: None! Cute and fluffy. Word Count: 3.8k

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The first time Suguru laid eyes on you, it was at a run-down museum that had shuttered closed years ago. The museum was already doing poorly long before it closed, unable to bring in enough revenue, until the bank had seized its assets, and the poor curator had hung himself from the neck of the apatosaurus model in the dinosaur wing.

It was rumored the apatosaurus was haunted, roaring and coming to life at night, thrashing around, and reducing the other exhibits to pieces. Sometimes, the occasional high school student would drop by and peek in through the windows on a dare, then hearing the eerie noises coming from inside the building, make a break for it. The ones that stayed too long were never seen again. 

This is why Geto is here now, creeping stealthily through the museum, the eerie look of the shattered exhibits casting distorted shadows across the length of the corridors as he surveyed for the cause. Although he had been told the curse would most likely be haunting the dinosaur wing, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of another presence nearby, emanating a tinge of cursed energy, but not enough for him to believe it could cause him harm. Just as he’d entered the museum, he’d seen a quick flash of silver making a dash towards the back of the atrium towards the birds exhibit. 

The displays looked uncanny, the taxidermied birds all out of place inside the glass displays, the ones that remained intact staring at him with unseeing, glassy eyes. It was unsettling, then as he rounded a corner, he saw another flash and breaks into a run. The sound of frantic footsteps fills his ears. Worried about losing his quarry, he quickly summons one of his curses, the manta ray one, and lets it loose, the creature quickly flying down the corridor. A shriek followed by muffled shouting fills the narrow space as Geto hurries to catch up.

Whatever it was got caught under the curse, wriggling like a mouse beneath a carpet. Cautiously, Geto calls off the curse and is surprised to see a human underneath. Defiantly, you lift your face to him, ready to fight to the death. For a second, your appearance throws Geto off—a beautiful face, followed by a lovely, feminine body. 

“You’re not a curse.” 

You scoff, fixing sharp eyes on him. “Well aren’t you a genius?” you ask sourly, sizing him up. Despite your irritation, you can’t help but notice the appeal of your assailant, the tall, broad youth with his hair up in a bun. Amethyst eyes focus on you and he seems temporarily at a loss of what to do next. 

“What are you doing here?” Geto demands, acutely aware of how this could throw off his mission. No one had mentioned a civilian being present. You scowl and cross your arms over your chest, and that’s when he notices a strap dangling from your arm, and hanging from it, the source of the flashes of silver he’d been seeing; a fancy-looking point-and-shoot camera. 

“None of your business,” you say stubbornly and Geto scoffs. 

“It is my business if you’re going to cause trouble for me. What’re you carrying that around for anyway?” He gestures to the camera.

“Creepy, allegedly-haunted museum. Thought it would make for a good art study.” Your words were too crafted and came too easily, an evasive quality to them.

“Oh, right, and I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” Geto carefully studies you. Just enough cursed energy, but not enough to be a sorcerer. 

“Well, why are you here?” You shoot his question back to him. “And what kinda uniform is that? I’ve never seen a student wearing that uniform around here before.”

Geto is about to reply, but he’s cut off as he senses a rapid movement of energy coming from the opposite side of the building. Whatever the curse was, it appeared to have scented him, and he had no time to waste chit-chatting.

“Look, I have something to take care of,” he says, urgency creeping into his voice. “If you know what’s good for you, please get out of the museum.”

“Why? It’s a free country. I can-” You stop as an unnatural, hair-raising shriek is heard, echoing from the opposite end of the bird exhibit. You shoot a look at Geto and both of you go tearing off in the opposite direction. 

“I’m Geto Suguru,” he says as you both run, hearing heavy footsteps chasing after them. You manage to give him your name as both of you hurtle out of the birds wing and turn into the entomology section. The curse, thrown temporarily off track, pauses and goes in another direction.

“Look,” Geto says in a whisper, “You need to get out of here. It’s dangerous. I-”

“Then why are you staying? Isn’t it dangerous for you too?” Geto looks at you curiously and something in his brain clicks. 

“You can see them, can’t you?” He asks, and for a moment, you’re startled, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Yes,” you admit after a beat. “Oh, God! Finally! Someone who can see them too!”

“What’s with the camera?”

“No one believes me when I tell them there are…things. So I was trying to catch one on film.”

Geto looks disbelievingly at you, then shakes his head. “Trust me, it’s not worth your life trying to get a picture of a curse. Now please get out of here so that I can exorcise it.”

“Exorcise? What are you, some sort of priest?”

“A sorcerer,” he admits.

“But this might be my only chance, I-”

“Trust me, it won’t be. There are curses everywhere. But this one is particularly powerful and nasty. Better luck with something less vicious.”

“But I-” You gasp as the curse suddenly makes an appearance, crashing through another entrance at the far end of the exhibit. It was truly grotesque, like a decaying dinosaur carcass come to life, with no skin on its body, eyes red and wild. 

Geto immediately springs into action, calling forth another curse from his arsenal. You can’t tear your eyes away from the scene, your heart hammering in your chest as the handsome youth you had known for all of five minutes goes charging into the fray. The most strange and curious creatures came forth as he summoned them, a small agile human compared to the monstrous dinosaur he was fighting. You attempted to take a picture but with all the movement, each shot was blurred.

You’re praying nothing happens to Geto, then finally, 2 of his curses distract the dinosaur long enough for him to begin the exorcism. With a roar that shook the whole museum, Geto begins to suck the curse into his palm. You watch in wide-eyed fascination, the camera forgotten in your hands as the behemoth swirls into black mist, then becomes encapsulated into a black sphere contained neatly in Geto’s palm. Silence falls through the room, and with a shaky breath, you approach Geto. 

“That was pretty neat,” you say, trying not to tremble. Geto looks at you, then at the orb sitting in his palm like a huge black pearl. 

“Look,” he says sympathetically. “I can understand why you want to photograph a curse. But I’m also telling you it’s dangerous and you could get hurt. You could even die. Haven’t the reports of the missing high school students scared you enough to not want to see one ever?”

You shake your head no. “That’s not going to stop me. I need to prove I’m not crazy. Everyone thinks I’m a freak.”

“I know you’re not crazy. Isn’t that enough?” When you remain silent, he huffs in frustration. “Look, I know it sounds bleak, but trust me. It’s better to live knowing there’s someone who believes you, than dying trying to prove to everyone else that doesn’t.”  

He pats your shoulder, a friendly gesture no doubt, but it sends a current of heat through your body, making you blush. You hoped the lack of lighting in the museum would hide your reaction to him.

The both of you walk together towards the entrance in silence, your heart hammering as you get outside and you see his face in the light. A handsome face, clearly on the brink of manhood, looks down at you with a stern expression.

“Well. Take care of yourself. And no more chasing curses. I hope we don’t meet again. At least, not under such grim circumstances.”

Before you could respond, he was walking away, vanishing into the night.

The days that follow are spent combing through the camera, but all photos of the curse were a waste, too blurry to be salvaged. However, there were several of Geto, and you can’t stop from poring over his face, remembering the way he’d moved and quickly contained the curse, effectively saving your life in the process. You hated to admit it, but you were smitten with him.

He had called himself a sorcerer. You wished you had asked for his phone number before he’d vanished. Partly because you wanted to ask him more questions, but also because you’d never had someone in your life who you could talk to about curses, as he’d called them. He knew you weren’t crazy. That thought gave you so much hope, that there was someone who believed you, who saw the terrible things you saw.

It had taken months for you to work out the curse’s location in the museum. You wondered if you managed to find another one…would he be there?

With that, you start an internet search, looking up haunted locale and areas reporting missing people within Tokyo. 

»•» 📷 «•« “Not you again!”

Geto lets out an exasperated sigh as he sees you lingering near the entrance of an old, ruined temple, tucked away in an isolated, mountainous region outside of the city. 

You grin, trying not to let on how eager you are to see him, almost skipping over to him as he rolls his eyes. Admittedly, it had been a chance to go to this location, but you couldn’t be more pleased that your guess was correct. 

“You have a death wish, don’t you?” 

“So do you if you work as a sorcerer,” you bite back, now next to him. Your trusted camera hangs from your arm and he groans at the sight.

“You still haven’t given up the idea of catching one of these things on camera?” he asks, irritated.

“Nope! And I figured, with a sorcerer by my side, I might actually capture a picture, and leave the place alive.”

Geto rolls his eyes at your persistence. “You are not following me in there.” 

“Oh please. Like that’ll stop me.”

“This curse is too dangerous.”

“Do you just say that for all the curses you handle?” you ask in a bored tone. 

“No. You just happen to be at places where the really dangerous ones nest. Are you like a magnet or something? Just…pulled in even against better judgment?”

“Then what does that make you?”

The defiant way you say it makes him snort. “I’m not here out of morbid fascination. I’m here because this is my job.”

He says the words with a touch of finality and turns to walk into the temple, then yells out in dismay as you run past him. He catches up to you quickly, grabbing hold of your wrist and making your heart pound in your chest which had nothing to do with the exertion from running.

“Don’t make me drag you out of here. I’ll place one of my curses near the entrance to watch you so that you can’t get in.”

When you continue to pout he sighs. “You really want a picture huh?”

You nod enthusiastically. “I really do.”

And I want to see you again. 

The words form in your mind, unbidden. “Isn’t there any way you can tell me if a curse is dangerous or not? All I want is the one picture.”

“And you’d stop putting yourself in danger?”

“Yes! Promise!”

Geto tsks impatiently, wanting to finish his mission as quickly as possible, then relents as you continue looking at him like a puppy.

“Fine,” he says indignantly pulling his mobile phone from his pocket. “What’s your number?”

You blink. “You’re asking for my number?” You try not to sound breathless.

“Yes.” There’s a bite of impatience in his voice. “C’mon, hurry up I haven’t got all day.”

You quickly recite your number, and he saves it, sending you a text to confirm. Your face is a little too pink when you get his text, but you look at him neutrally as he heads inside.

“Please don’t follow me,” he says and there is a tinge of concern in his voice.

“Scout’s honor,” you say, striking the gesture with your fingers, and he throws you a glance over his shoulder that could’ve suggested amusement before being swallowed by the temple entrance. 

Almost a month passes by before you see him again.

Geto was always busy and away on some mission or another. The last few curses had all been classified as a grade 2 or higher, so you hadn’t had an opportunity to take a picture just yet.

However, of late, he’d been texting you after getting back to his dorm room from missions, asking about your day and how you were doing. Used to being the weird girl, isolated, misunderstood, because you could see cursed spirits, you had never experienced this kind of amity before. You’d text him late into the night, waiting up for him sometimes until he texted first.

One night, you were restless. It had been weeks since you last saw him, and when he texted you, confirming he was back in the city, you boldly asked if he wanted to go into the shopping district with you. You didn’t need anything, but there was a weird emptiness inside you, a need to see him again, to convince yourself he was real, this person who finally understood the frustration you’d experienced your whole life. He was sympathetic to you, telling you that this was a classic age-old problem between sorcerers and regular humans. 

“We’re kind of like the trash cans of society,” he says jokingly, sipping his milk tea as the both of you wandered through the streets, waiting at the signal light to cross. “We get rid of all the garbage that festers from normal humans, yet people always turn up their noses at us.”

You listen to him in fascination, quietly sipping your own tea. “I wish I could be a student at your high school,” you murmur. Geto’s expression changes slightly, as though he’s weighing what he should say next. The bright lights of the shopping district float around you as wait for his next words. 

“I understand why you’d feel that way. But trust me you don’t.”

“Trust me I do. At least no one will think I’m the weird girl. No one will doubt me if I say I see something, because you can see it too.”

“Yes, but it’s also mission after mission. Death. Risking your life. You saw what happened at the museum.”

“But your life is so cool! You said you can control the curses you absorb right?” You falter at the look on his face, displeasure falling over it like a veil.

“Do you know how I absorb those curses?” he asks quietly, all traces of geniality disappearing from his voice. The unexpected harshness catches you off guard. Swallowing, you venture a guess.

“You put them into those spheres right?”

“That’s to contain them. Do you know what happens after that?” Geto looks like his milk tea was suddenly replaced by sludge. You meekly shake your head no, his demeanor starting to frighten you a little bit. “I swallow them. I literally eat them. Do you know what it’s like, eating a cursed spirit?” He pushes on, not bothered to hear your response. 

“It tastes like a rag that’s been used to wipe up shit and vomit. And I do this over and over again because it’s what’s expected of me. I’ve never been allowed to make a choice that doesn’t surround jujutsu. I can’t leave, because what would happen to humanity, the non-jujutsu humans?” All the bitter feelings he’s been bottling up come spilling out. He couldn’t believe that you wanted his life, especially not after seeing the kinds of situations he’s put into regularly.

No one understood him, not even at school, because curse absorption was such a rare ability. Even if he tried to put it into words, he knew how everyone would react; like it was his duty to continue to do it even if he hated it, treated like some sort of heroic martyr for protecting the human race. For once, he’d love to be you, able to see cursed spirits, but having zero obligation to do anything about it. The appeal of the milk tea dissipates, and he throws it into a trash can, disgust lining his face as his feelings about sorcery start bubbling up.

“I can never think of having a normal life. Going into something other than sorcery, or to just have a selfish moment where if I don’t want to take on a cursed spirit, I can say no and walk away.” He starts walking faster and you’re almost sprinting to keep up with him.

“Geto!”

“You don’t understand how lucky you are! I’d pick being the class weirdo any day over having to absorb a cursed spirit.”

You hurry behind him, trailing in his wake, worrying you have ruined everything. “Geto please- I didn’t mean-”

“I’d love to be normal! To go on a date, maybe hold hands, maybe even kiss a girl if I get lucky! Where’s the time for that? If I’m absorbing cursed spirits all the time? I know what it tastes like! Who would want to be with me? Who would want to kiss me?” 

You’ve both walked a reasonable distance from the main shops onto a waterfront shopping strip. It was quieter here, a pleasant breeze flowing through the night air as Geto heatedly walked towards the railing, you scurrying behind him. You manage to catch hold of his hand and to your relief, he doesn’t pull away.

“Geto.” Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry I brought it up,” you mumble, wishing he’d turn around and look at you. He peers over the railing at the water, watching little lily pads float on the surface.

The silence between you both is deafening. Treading carefully, you try to talk to him again, keeping your voice gentle. “Geto, before I met you, do you know what my life was like? With everyone thinking I was a liar? Or that I was making up things to get attention?” 

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue. 

“I had no one. Everything changed when I met you. I felt like…someone finally gets it. And it’s not just me who can see those awful things. They really exist, and there are lots of people who can see them. It made me feel…a little less alone.” 

He turns to look at you, his expression doubtful and your heart skips a beat as you realize you're still holding his hand, the tension between you both blossoming like springtime wildflowers. 

“You said you wanted…to hold hands. To kiss someone.” You draw closer. “What would you do…If I said…I want to do those things with you?”

His eyes widen as you get closer but he doesn’t push away. “I’d ask you if you were sure because you might be making a mistake.”

You shake your head. “I’m positive I’m not making a mistake.”

His hand, the one you’re holding onto tightens around your smaller one and pulls you against him. You inhale, his skin smelling wonderful and his chest so big and broad and warm. 

“Geto…” Your voice is lost amidst the tangle of nerves and rush of excitement, both hearts hammering in their chests. Shy inexperience made both of you blush before you raised your head, and Geto’s tips downwards, and your lips met gently, a subtle brush against the other before breaking away. You giggle awkwardly, unable to stop and Geto also grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. 

“Um…that was nice,” he murmurs, not looking at you and chuckling, unsure what to say. 

“Was that a good first kiss?” 

“Oh!” Geto now laughs too but still doesn’t pull away, instead, maintains proximity with you, and brushes some loose hair away from your face. “Uh, yeah. It was…like how I imagined it.”

Silence falls between you both, not an uncomfortable one, but the kind where both kissers are considering if they should change topics or kiss again to make sure the first one wasn’t imagined. 

Geto’s eyes suddenly widen as he sees something floating near your head. He pulls you close to him, then huffs as he sees a harmless flyhead, then with a jolt of realization, he taps your shoulder.

“Flyhead curse! It’s harmless! Take your picture now!”

“What?” you look over your shoulder and see the creepy-looking gremlin of a creature then gasp. “I don’t have my camera!”

“Phone! Quick!” Without hesitating, Geto reaches out and grabs the flyhead which struggles and buzzes angrily but is too weak to try escaping. It squirms and tries to sink its little teeth into Geto’s fist and he shakes it angrily. 

“Hurry up!”

With hands trembling in excitement, you pull out your phone and quickly snap a crystal-clear picture the the ugly critter. It makes a low grumbling noise and Geto throws it away into the air. It mutters angrily at him before zooming away.

“Shouldn’t you have exorcized that?” you ask, looking in awe at the photo on your phone. 

“Nah. It’s pretty harmless. Chances are it’ll get squished by a lower-rank sorcerer by daybreak.”

Your cheeks are red with happiness, triumph glittering in your eyes. “I can’t believe it, I actually got a picture of it…” You rake a hand through your hair.

Geto silently watches your outburst of enthusiasm, a smile tugging his lips. “So what’s more exciting - you finally catching a curse on camera, or the fact that you just had your first kiss and it was with me?” His voice is soft and teasing and you roll your eyes but fail to control the dusting of pink in your face.

“I think I need to experience it again before I can decide.”

“Is that right?” Suguru smirks before pulling you closer to him. “Let’s see if we can help you make a decision.”

You grin widely before your lips touch again, and you knew it had never been a question from the start. 

@estarlias @daswanj @actuallysaiyan @whatshernameis

@byul9158 @mirrors-musings @Mangiswig

@that-goth-bisexual @connorsui @jadedjane @darkstarlight82

@soft--cherry @galactict3a @hunnie-lily

[ofc-vi-writes-too]

so all ive been able to think about is gotham for the past several days, and more specifically how gothamite culture has to be SO drastically different and jarring to literally anywhere else in the world. Like even other super cities like metropolis, or central city, or wherever else are at least KINDA normal. Like yea u have superman or wonderwoman or the flash but they dont really have to deal with the same level of bs as Gotham.

That being said here are a list of things that I think are extremely normal to Gotham, and other things that happen in thay horrible little city:

• the episode of Hot Ones with Brucie Wayne where no one thinks he’ll even be able to stand the 2nd or 3rd wing but he eats all of them with no reaction, and Sean Evans (or the in universe equivalent) just sits there like “wow no one has ever had literally no reaction before this is really crazy, and Bruce Wayne of all people?” Afterwards Bruce has second thoughts and realizes that maybe he should have played up his reaction to the spice a bit more. People Inside of Gotham are a little shocked because everytime he eats in public it is the most boring, bland, flavorless food imaginable. (he handled the spice so well because Batman is ready for all potential threats and forms of torture. Ridiculous levels of spice included)

• Gotham schools offer courses in self defense. In some school districts its actually mandatory, thats usually in old gotham or downtown gotham. In more affluent areas, self defense is still taught in schools, but most kids are sent to some ritzy trainer to make sure they can defend themselves.

• No one even blinks when theres a new vigilante by the time Damian comes around. Theres still a little buzz but by the time Duke shows up, people are like “Oh cool another one. HEY BRO WHATS YOUR NAME.” I saw someone post here about how when the Wayne kids get mad at Bruce, they go to Selina and make public appearances as Stray, Catwomans sidekick. I personally believe that Tim was the first one to do it but Dick does it the most, and gothamites didnt even need to get used to Stray showing up sometimes, nor did people really care that Stray was always wildly different heights, shapes, colors, etc. the additude is kinda like “I have taxes and job security to worry about. If a new vigilante is what were doing then so be it.”

• People tend to think that Gothamites aren’t smart, but that city is home to the Richest, smartest, most creative people alive. They mostly just lack morals. Like Dr. Freeze, Harley Quinn, hell even The Riddler are all insanely intelligent. Half of Gothams Villains have at minimum 2 Doctorates in something or other. Gotham generates a lot of cash as a whole, and small businesses thrive there. They have high employment rates, and most citizens have their associates despite everything happening around them. People who have never been to Gotham before expect to have to talk down to the citizens but Gothamites just kinda roll their eyes at them and carry on about their merriment.

• Gothamites CONSTANTLY says “because I’m Batman” when they don’t want to explain themselves. Kids hear it a lot from parents and they also get “If you don’t go to sleep, Condiment Man i gonna come and cover you in stinky relish.” Because truly what else is condiment man good for.

• Gothamites who work at BatBurger and typically work the night shift are used to visits from Batman, Robin, Red Hood, Cat Woman, Harley Quinn, etc. Sometimes they remember the workers and ask about their family, and how life is, and other things like that. Theres some barely 18 y/o who just graduated high school who worls at Bat Burger, and asked Red Hood to help him impress his gf by saying theyre friends. He like fuck it why not and tells the gf that the kid helped him save an old lady’s cat in a tree and now theyre bffs. She totally believes it. Score.

• I see the Gotham thinks Batman is Bruce Wayne’s boyfriend theories and raise you: Its pretty common knowledge that Bruce Wayne is Batman, just no one has the heart to tell him. Also theyre scared he will quit if anyone brings it up. So from this Gothamites created the joke that BW and batman are dating and when asked about it in an interview, dick grayson is like “……yes! My adoptive father is dating the guy who dressed up like a bat every night…!”

• this cuased and arguement between Bruce and Dick because no! Bruce isnt dating Batman! (stray was seen again that week) HE IS BATMAN! But fuck now the public thinks theyre a couple so now bruce gets asked about it and hes like “haha yes my spooky bat bf is who i love very dearly!” As punishment He makes Dick bring him flowers in the batsuit because “as far as he is concerned, this is his shithead son’s fault.” Thats a direct quote btw. Little does he know this somehow ties back to Tim Drake before they met.

[gentaro-kinniecom]

Nightplumes☆彡

Characters: Sylus/reader

Cw: fluff, based off his new card Nightplumes with a small twist to the storyline, first pov (reader), -800 words (not proofread)

A/n: I’m going feral over this man. Hes so sweet behind doors I can’t get over it :(

The cold breeze brushed against my coat, soon ending due to Sylus parking his motorcycle near the pier to watch the fireworks that night. After picking up the small dove that I had entrusted in his care, we stood in front the railing near the lake where the spectacle would take place. My gloved hands cradled the bird, staring up at Sylus whose gaze was already on me ever since we got off his motorcycle. I turned towards his body, handing him the dove while smiling

“Since you took care of it for a week, I’ll give you the honors of releasing it” His eyes softened upon receiving the bird, gazing at its small figure. It perched up on Sylus’ arm, gently opening its wings and flying into the night, just as the fireworks began. Who knew that a man who seemed rough on the exterior, was actually a gentleman at heart?

Memories of his small gestures like holding my hand or waist whenever we went out to one of his events in the N109 zone, almost protectively, made me smile subconsciously, watching in awe as many colors bursted in the air, creating a beautiful show.

“You seem more interested in the fireworks rather than me, sweetie” His voice snapped me out of my pensive thoughts. Staring at his hair that was covered in snow as I giggled, gently nudging him into me

“They’re really pretty aren’t they?” I inquired, leaning my hand forward to brush the snow out of his hair when Sylus suddenly grasped my hand, gazing into my eyes while chuckling

“Just what are you thinking of doing?” Before he could even finish his question, I was already giving him an answer

“You have some snow in your hair” I replied, watching as Sylus sighed in irritation, turning his head towards me so I could help him out. He didn’t even need to ask for it since I knew him very well. After spending some time ruffling his hair, Sylus hummed happily to a song that played faintly in the background.

“Thank you” He said, taking a good look at my bundled up body that stood beside his own. The spectacle looked like it could never end while my gaze turned to his. My eyes trailed over his lips, the most perfect cupid’s bow I’d ever seen, rosy tinted and..kissable. Sylus seemed to notice the sudden shift in my actions while drawing something on some snow that had landed on the railing

“Is that supposed to be me?” My lips parted to say more yet I couldn’t help but laugh. A cute cat drawing was laid out for me, made by him, the man who I swore that I would never love. Without another second left to waste, Sylus nodded, pulling me into his embrace while we continued to watch the everlasting show before us. More snow continued to pour down slowly as Sylus took out his keys, buttoning up my coat while re-adjusting my gloves

“Come, I’m taking you somewhere” He revved up his motorcycle, gently taking my hand as I quickly sat behind him. Sylus wrapped my arms around his waist securely after making sure I had my helmet on. Riding for a while, we finally reached the outskirts of linkon city.

I took off my helmet, placing it on the seat while gazing at the nightly sky that was much closer than before, the moon on full display for us as Sylus took hold of my hand, urging me to sit beside him under the shade of a tree that loomed over us.

“It seems the show has stopped.” My voice was but a near whisper, not wanting to disrupt the comfortable silence of the night as Sylus suddenly spoke up

“Indeed, such a shame for them, we have a great view of the stars now…though, the most beautiful of them all is right beside me” His words caught me off guard while Sylus sat me on his lap, hands grasping my waist, as if he didn’t want to let go of me. Soft lips caressed my neck, trailing upwards until stopping before reaching my own.

“Sylus..don’t tease me..” He chuckled, finally acceding to my words as Sylus pressed his lips onto mine. My hands settled down onto his shoulders, grasping them while wanting more from him. He parted the kiss to take a small breath, chuckling while parting my hair away from my face, kissing my forehead.

“I guess we both got what we wanted, right sweetie?” Our bodies cuddled up together, watching the night sky while enjoying each other’s presence, wishing it would never end, although it wouldn’t, not under Sylus’ watch.

[natimiles]

Wanna go somewhere? (Mammon x reader)

Summary: You’re feeling down and Mammon makes it his mission to cheer you up.

Words: 763

Tags: no pronouns for reader; Mammon being a sweetie; fluffy; can be established or pre-relationship.

Notes: this is a gift for @nightghoul381 requested by @judejazza! Have a lovely time with your demon, ghoulie!

Mammon is more perceptive and smart than most demons give him credit for, and you know this better than anyone. He knows everything about you, from how you look when you wake up to how you react when things don’t go as planned. Just one glance at you, and he can tell when something has happened and you’re feeling down.

He tries to brush it off and says it’s not like he spends his days observing you or anything, but you don’t believe him anymore — it still brings a smile to your face, and that’s all that matters to him.

That’s why, when he looks at you now, he knows he needs to do something. You’re looking at the front of the class, but your eyes aren’t really focused. He knows you’re not really paying attention and absorbing whatever the teacher is saying — it’s not like he is paying attention either, anyway.

An idea pops up almost immediately in his mind. He waits for classes to finish; he doesn’t want to risk Lucifer’s wrath, after all. When he leaves the final classroom with you, he walks by your side along the same path you take every day, until he suddenly stops.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” You stop immediately when you notice. You look around, already imagining that something happened or that one of the witches was summoning him again.

“Do ya… have any plans now?”

“No. Why?” You tilt your head to the side.

“Wanna go somewhere?”

“Oh?” A teasing grin forms on your lips. “The Great Mammon wanna go on a date with his human?”

“W-what? Well, you should be honored The Great Mammon wants to take you somewhere!” You snort lightly, and he crosses his arms over his chest, pouting. “Ya wanna go or not?”

“I do,” you beam at him.

“Of course ya do,” he mumbles, smiling sheepishly.

“Where are we…” You start asking, but his transformation into his demon form makes you lose track. “...going?” 

You raise a questioning eyebrow at him, trying to think where you’d possibly go that he’d need to fly you both there. He simply extends his hand to you, and without much thought, you accept it. Mammon pulls you close, carrying you bridal-style, and his wings spread on his back. In the next second, you’re both flying.

From this close, you can’t ignore the redness in his cheeks or the slight trembling of his fingers against your body. He tries to disguise it by holding you tighter against his chest. A tender smile spreads across your face, and you decide to let him off the hook this time. He’s already struggling enough.

“So… You gonna tell me where we’re going?” you whisper close to his face, watching in amazement as goosebumps arise on his skin.

“Y-ya… Ya’ll see.”

He heads towards the direction of the house, but then ascends higher and higher... You’ve flown with Mammon before, but usually it was to get you home or to RAD faster when you were late. You’ve never been this high before, and your arms involuntarily tighten around his shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you from the corner of his eye and adjusts his hold on you, ensuring a tighter grip that comforts you — even though you know Mammon would never drop you.

When he finally stops, you feel like your heart will explode. Everything is as dark as always, but if he moves a little to the side, you’re sure you could touch the clouds nearby. From this high in the Devildom sky, the stars seem so close you feel like you could catch them, and the city below looks so tiny that its lights resemble small stars.

“It’s beautiful up here.”

Your eyes shine so brightly that Mammon gives himself a moment to stare at you without a care in the world. It’s just the two of you anyway; he can have this moment just this once.

“I thought it’d cheer ya up. Ya looked down before.”

You turn to look at him, surprised to notice he’s still staring intently at your face, paying attention to every little detail to read you.

“It did,” you whisper, a smile forming on your lips. “It really did. Thanks, Mammon.” You kiss his cheek and snuggle your face against him, getting comfortable to watch the beautiful scenery for a few more minutes.

Mammon smiles, a little relief showing on his features, as he adjusts you in his arms. He kisses the crown of your head and nuzzles his nose into your hair.

“Yer welcome, my human.”

Masterlists

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

what is G/t

G/t is, in its simplest form, the size difference trope. Think of those episodes in shows where the characters shrink or grow. It’s one of those tropes that can be slapped onto literally any media. It’s one of the most common tropes tv shows would use, alongside things like time travel, alternate dimensions, gender swap, just space, and more! G/t stands for Giant / tiny, which is usually the main focus for most people. There are many different things you can find in g/t from soft and cute scenarios to more angst and horror-like scenarios. It just depends on the person. G/t is usually very safe for work with some getting close to the edge of nsfw but never fully crossing it. On tumblr there is a very clear difference from the sfw and nsfw stuff (With g/t being the safe stuff and micro/macro being nsfw, usually)

Now the main thing about g/t is the size difference. With characters interacting with differently sized items or people. The G is the giant which is typically used for whoever the bigger (literally) person is. So it’s not always gonna be a giant and will sometimes be a human. The t on the other hand is the tiny person, which just like the G, can include a human sized person. As long as the size difference is great enough (each person has their own thoughts on when size difference becomes g/t or is simply tall person with slightly shorter person) then it is consider g/t. Now a tiny or giant doesn’t necessarily need to interact with their counter part, it could be something simple like a tiny fairy exploring an abandoned house, or a giant roaming the country side. If the person doesn’t “fit” in the environment it can count. (Which is probably why a lot of us use it as a coping mechanism. Cause like you don’t fit in and it’s easier to imagine literally not fitting in)

There are many kinds of character in g/t too! Tinies and giants can range from “That’s a human who is big/small” to “that’s a person who is big/small, but they have some extra features (like wings or horns, etc) to “that’s a creature/alien…a big/small one…oooohhhh” Most people in the community usually vibe with one of the sides. Most people are tinies, some a giants, and then there’s people like me who couldn’t decided and liked both sizes for different reasons and said “SCREW IT! Sizeshifter time”

There’s a lot to g/t and it’s kinda hard to describe and yet so simple to describe too. Each person into it, loves it for so many different reasons. It’s basically the trope that me and many others really love to many unique degrees. It’s literally about new perspectives and seeing our world from them, in a very literal sense sometimes. When you know about g/t you start seeing it everywhere, commercials, movies, tv shows, games, etc. The stories may have the same trope but each delivers it in such a unique way that, it always feels brand new and like an amazing adventure!

If you have any more question, or if anyone else has questions about other g/t things I can try my best to answer them (I’m very bad at answering asks, sorry about that) I may not be the best at explaining things, but I can sure try my best to!

Also, if you want to check it g/t out more but are a little scared to explore websites, I made a YouTube playlist (that I randomly update whoops) that has a bunch of g/t stuff in it. If you want to get a vibe of what it is. It’s organized (kinda) so you can check out the movies, games, animations, etc. I suggest watching the movies first because they tend to just be fun to watch even if you aren’t into g/t. And no worries, it’s a pretty clean content wise.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 10. Keeping Tabs

A little study time (well, an attempt at it) with Bodhi one night in the quadrant in the lead up to Presentation Day.

Set Pre Fourth Wing/Books

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

As per usual the library is quiet as hell. The only noise is the crackling of the fire next to me. It wasn’t quite cold enough for a fire, but the temperature had definitely dropped in the last few weeks as we’d entered September and I welcomed any chance to sit by a fire. It was one of the few things that had brought me comfort back in my room.

Most winter nights I would sit in the chair by the fire in my room reading. Something I had missed due to leaving all my books behind when I’d come here. And sadly the small library in the riders quadrant and the scribes only had historical texts. Something I really needed to change as soon as possible if I could. I’d even debated sneaking back to my room to grab some of them, but knowing my father my stuff was long gone.

The door to the library bangs open, followed my some muffled curses as I am pulled from my thoughts. As I scan the bookshelves behind me, I note the footsteps getting closer and closer to where I sit in front of the fire. A few moments later the familiar curly black hair of Bodhi peeks around the edge of one of the bookshelves, a grin forming on his face as his eyes meet mine.

”Knew I would find you here.” He says excitedly as he steps around the bookshelf heading over to me.

”Don’t you usually go to the gym with your two shadows on Wednesday nights?” I ask as I return to my book as Bodhi starts pulling out his from his pack as he sits next to me. ”Watch out Dahlia, someone might think you actually care.” He teases before I throw my pot of ink at him, which he catches easily. Lucky for him it was closed. ”I don’t care.” I say with a smirk as I look up at him.

Over the last few weeks Bodhi had wormed his way through my walls, and I actually did consider him a friend along with Austin and Liz. Between having all our classes together and training together a few days a week after classes, we’d easily fallen into our own little friendship group. Something I had told myself I wouldn’t do and wouldn’t need to get through the quadrant. Something I hadn’t had since that day my mother had died. But here I was two months later, and I couldn’t deny I enjoyed having friends again after all these years. ”You sure? Seems like you’re keeping tabs on me. Or maybe you’re keeping tabs on someone else?” He mocks as he wiggles his eyebrows at me, handing the pot of ink out to me. ”I promise you, I am not keeping tabs on anyone. You three aren’t exactly hard to spot wandering around the Quadrant. Especially with that giant lumbering oaf walking around with you.” I throw back as I take the pot of ink from him. Bodhi just sighs and shakes his head at me. It wasn’t the first time I’d made a stab at Garrick. He’d barely said more than a few words to me since that first round of challenges where I had very much proven him wrong. Something I knew infuriated him. Here and there he’d made jabs at me before I walked onto the mat, or when I’d come to grab Bodhi for training. All of which I had ignored. If he wanted to hate me for my name, then so be it. I wasn’t going to bend over backwards to prove him wrong. I knew my name came with a reputation, as did his. But clearly he didn’t want to overlook it. Bodhi had tried to convince me a few times to give him a chance.

”He’s really not that bad Dahlia.” Trying yet again to convince me to give Garrick a chance. ”Well he has done little to prove otherwise. So unless he wants to pull his head out of his ass, then I will continue to call him whatever comes to mind.” I tell him sternly before turning back to my book.

”You did well on the Gauntlet today.” He says, changing the subject with ease, clearly getting the hint I did not want to talk about Garrick. ”Barely. I fumbled on those damn balls again.” I say as I recall the moment my heart had dropped when I’d nearly lost my grip on one of the balls today. ”And yet you still had the fastest time today. You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Easier said than done. Despite Bodhi getting through the walls I’d built up over the years, I hadn’t told him what had happened all those years ago. Why I was the way I was. And why failure was not an option for me. Any slip up was a failure in my fathers eyes, and I prayed no word got back to him today of my slip up. As much as his opinion didn’t matter to me, I wanted to prove him wrong. ”You know I can’t do that.” I say back in what I hope passes as a joking tone. I breathe a sigh of relief when Bodhi shakes his head and laughs at me. “Oh trust me I know. One day you wont though. I’ll make sure of it.”

I can’t help but feel emotional at Bodhi’s words. Just like Garrick he should hate me. Despise me for my father and what he had done. But he didn’t. Since he’d stood next to me in the Rotunda, he had looked right through that. Been able to accept me as someone besides the weight of my last time. Hell even Xaden had somehow. Though it still felt like he was a little cautious of me at times, but I put that mostly down to Garrick who was always by his side. ”Let’s get through Presentation Day and hopefully Threshing first, then you can work on that.”

Presentation day was only two days away. Meaning we were four away from Threshing. Just four more days and I would hopefully bond a dragon. Bond a dragon and become a rider like I always wanted. The last time I had been close to a dragon was that day. Father now allowing me anywhere near one since then. Would I panic and run like I should have done immediately that day? Or even worse, would I meet the fate that was nearly my own that day? No. I would bond a dragon. I would do it.

”I feel like getting you to be not so hard on yourself is going to be easier than that.” He says with a sigh before leaning back in his chair and staring at the roof. “You scared?”

I close my book, finally giving up on studying now Bodhi was here. Which was a regular occurrence if he found me. “You’re probably expecting me to say no, but honestly I’m scared shitless.”

Which I was. Mixed with not knowing how I would react, I was also terrified I would come face to face with a dragon and panic. Become frozen to the ground with fear and become a pile of ash on the floor just like….

”You’re right.” Bodhi says cutting my thoughts off. “Nothing seems to phase you. But I’d probably think you weren’t human if you weren’t scared of facing off with a dragon.”

If only you knew Bodhi.

”What colour do you think you’ll bond?” I ask as I try steer the conversation away from facing a dragon.

”I don’t know. Never really thought about it I guess. I seem to be drawn to Green Dragons whenever Kaori talks about them. What about you?”

”Blue.” I say without missing a beat causing Bodhi to glance over at me. “I’ve always been drawn to Blue Dragons. But they’re incredibly rare to bond with.”

”Xaden said he was the first one in a few years to bond a Blue and the only one in his year as well.”

I nod in agreement. They were very hard to bond with. Blue Dragons had the highest fatality rate for cadets during Threshing. Even Kaori had advised us to run instead of try bonding a blue. Meaning if I wanted to bond a Blue, I needed to be certain of the one I approached.

”Well here’s hoping we bond the colours we want and come out victorious in a few days time.” I say as I look over at Bodhi who is already smiling at me.

”Don’t worry, we will Dahlia.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 18

@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)

I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Gen

Wordcount:

Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?

(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)

-

  They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes! 

They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle! 

But who really listens to him anyway? 

No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying. 

Twilight and Wild are their own story. 

The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them? 

Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be. 

He told the champion to stay. 

He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to. 

They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done. 

Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where! 

A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.  

Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids. 

Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely. 

Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t. 

Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance. 

He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.  

Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice. 

He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice. 

His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs. 

The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here. 

By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand. 

By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!  

That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time? 

Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him. 

More tracks join the mix; an ambush. 

He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.  

Not great odds for one already injured rancher. 

He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight. 

He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done. 

“There you are, rancher.” 

The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor. 

Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic. 

So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open. 

“Cap’n?” 

Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with. 

There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.” 

“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.  

“The others?” 

“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless. 

“Wild?” 

“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable. 

“The kids?” 

He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.” 

Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic. 

“Yer upset.” 

The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.  

Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?” 

“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.  

“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself. 

“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.” 

Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards. 

Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?” 

“I said stay still.” 

“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Why are you actin’ like this then?” 

The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though. 

“Wars?” 

“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.” 

They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was. 

Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out. 

He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-” 

A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?” 

A tick. “What does that mean?” 

He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.” 

Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished. 

It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.” 

“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”  

That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.  

There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.” 

A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place. 

He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?” 

A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.” 

He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.” 

Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-” 

“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns. 

Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise. 

Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp. 

Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone. 

After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into. 

Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor! 

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of death, crying, sadness, physical pain, and parental neglect

A/N: i deeply apologize, i felt i needed to set up more context and establish Luke and readers relationship more before getting to capture the flag, i PROMISE it’ll be in this next chapter or the one after that💕

“Castellan!” 

Sixteen-year-old Luke’s head snapped up abruptly to see his brother, Connor Stoll running towards him frantically. If Connor, who was usually lighthearted and cheerful, was panicked, something was really wrong. 

“What’s going on?” Luke stood up, abandoning the art project he was helping a younger camper with. “Is someone hurt?”

“I-I’m not sure. I just heard a girl screaming in the woods, and calling for your help.” 

Luke’s skin went cold. He knew exactly who was in trouble. 

The only child of Thanatos, his best friend.

Connor beckoned for Luke to follow him. The two sons of Hermes sprinted towards the woods, trying to conceal their fear. 

Luke’s heart pounded aggressively in his chest. He couldn’t bear to lose another loved one, it would destroy him.

Finally, Connor came to a halt and pointed into the trees. “She’s that way.” 

“Thank you,” Luke said breathlessly. Running through the woods and ignoring the stares of the nymphs, he strained to hear anything that could lead him to you.

Then, he heard a muffled sob coming from a nearby clearing. 

Cutting the stray branches aside with Backbiter, Luke practically flew through the trees until he spotted you, kneeling on the ground. 

He froze. You were weeping, holding your face in your hands. Your body trembled, but he couldn’t tell if it was from sadness or fear. You hardly ever cried, you were a mellow person for the most part and rarely had emotional outbursts, so seeing you like this worried him immensely.

But most shockingly, you had black wings protruding from your back.  

They didn’t look like bird wings. They had the shape of angel wings, but instead of feathers, they were made of black smoke that swirled gently and occasionally omitted wisps into the air.  

“W-Wh-“ Luke stammered, struggling to find words. “How?”

���I don’t know!” you cried, refusing to look at him. “They just…started appearing. It felt like someone was digging hot knives into my shoulder blades. I ran out here so that nobody would notice them, but then Connor found me.” 

Your best friend knelt down in front of you, gently uncovering your face by taking your hands in his gently. His hands were calloused and rough, thanks to years of rigorous training. But they were comforting nonetheless. 

“Are they still hurting?” he asked, instinctively checking your pulse by pressing your wrist carefully. 

“No…I’m just scared, Luke. I don’t understand what’s going on,” you said, feeling your intrusive thoughts spill out. “What if they don’t go away? What will everyone think of me?” 

Luke sighed. “If they don’t go away, it’ll just be another thing that makes you you. And it doesn’t define you, or take away from the person you already are. If other people can’t look past your new features, they’re fucking idiots who aren’t worth your attention anyways.” 

“But…I feel like a monster. And even worse, I look even more like my father. He has wings too, I’ve read enough about him to know that for sure. I don’t want anything to do with him, why did he make this happen to me?”

“I don’t know why it happened,” Luke said honestly. “We can talk to Chiron and see if he has any advice. He won’t judge you, you know that. And I promise you’ll always have me. I’ll be your friend, whether you have wings or not.”  

Wiping away your tears, you felt the painful feeling in your chest begin to subside. Knowing that he didn’t see you any differently despite this new development settled your nerves, at least a little. Sure, the other campers may see you as monstrous, as a terrifying mutation that needed to be avoided at all costs. All of the new friends you’d made over the past couple years may leave you, but you would survive.

At least you had Luke.

Your Luke.

________________________________________________

After calming down, Luke lead you to Chiron’s office in The Big House. Luckily, the rest of the campers were at lunch, and nobody saw your very noticeable new features.

Chiron wasn’t nearly as surprised as Luke had been concerning your wings. “I suspected that they would appear around this time,” he said. “Your father has passed down yet another one of his gifts to you.” 

You certainly didn’t seen the wings as a gift. They were a curse, yet another thing that made you appear monstrous compared to other demigods.

“So, are they just there forever now?” you asked, fighting down the bitterness in your voice.

Chiron thought for a moment. “Wish them to go away, and see what happens.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Just try,” Chiron insisted. “Your willpower is more powerful than you know.” 

Relenting, you shut your eyes, focusing on your disdain for your wings. Desperation and frustration overtook your thoughts, and you felt your head begin to throb painfully.

Thankfully, the sound of Luke calling your name snapped you out of it. 

“They’re gone,” Chiron’s low voice declared. 

Sighing in relief, you opened your eyes and looked at the centaur standing before you.

“I advise you to spend time learning to control your new features,” he said. “You must discover the extent of the abilities they give you. Otherwise, they may pose a threat to your safety, as well as the well-being of the other campers.” 

You nodded, despite the feeling of dread creeping over you. “I will. But I may miss some camp activities for the next few days.” 

“That’s alright,” Chiron said. “I’ll let Mr. D know that you are caring for yourself, and need adequate time to do so.”

“I’ll accompany you,” Luke said immediately. You shook your head.

“You have responsibilities, Luke. Who else is going to run sparring classes for the younger campers? Who else is going to make sure the Hermes kids attend archery practice and don’t set a fire somewhere?”

“I’ll have Chris take over,” he said. “He can handle it.”  

“But-“

“I’m not changing my mind,” Luke said firmly. “I’m helping you, and that’s final.”

Gods, as much as it sometimes irritated you, you loved that he was so stubborn. 

________________________________________________

After a few days that felt like an eternity, you came to the realization that you’d gained more power than you initially predicted. 

You could fly. That was to be expected; what else would the wings be for?

You could turn invisible. You only discovered this because a howl coming from the depths of the woods startled you. When you looked down, you could no longer see your body. 

And finally, your senses had heightened considerably. You could tell when someone or something died, even if it was outside the borders of camp. Beforehand, you could only sense it if they were within close parameters. 

The change was scary, but exhilarating at the same time. You knew that once you got used to your new abilities, you’d be even more intimidating than you already were.

Luke had been a huge help. He accompanied you while you experimented with your powers in the woods, but respected your request for him to keep his distance. He would check in on you at every meal, and made sure you ate an adequate amount. At night before bed, he sat with you on your mattress in Cabin 11, listening to you ramble on and on about various frustrations. He understood your anger at your father better than anyone else. He shared the same resentment towards Hermes. 

When you’d tired yourself out, he would bid you goodnight, give you a sweet kiss on the forehead, and climb into his own bed. And within minutes, he was out cold. 

But you stayed awake, staring at the worn-down wooden ceiling of your Hermes’s cabin. 

The fear you’d felt when your wings had first appeared had faded considerably. You felt powerful, invincible almost. 

And with the best swordsman in three centuries at your side, there was nothing in the world for you to be afraid of.  

taglist: @orionspaperwork, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @marvelescvpe, @lovingjasontoddmakemewanttocry, @louweasleymalfoy, @stars4birdie, @stargurl-battleship

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! Btw, the powers I gave the reader are based on Thanatos’s abilities according to Rick Riordan’s version of him.

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[doodlemcnoodlee]

Here’s some random headcannons I’ve been thinking about <3

Sorry for how long this got -_-

Building off the Neptune shapeshifter headcannon- Neptune is really an abomination of different sea creatures into one, kind of like a biblically correct angels, Uranus ones bagged Neptune to show him, Neps real form and was terrified of him for a good few thousands of years.

Mercury has a lot of burn marks covering is body because of the solar flares as well as at lest a few sunburns from his closeness to the sun

Mercury’s wings aren’t as fluffy or healthy as they before the sun got hotter

Venus used to have fish ears like people give Neptune from when he had life but their now dried out and shrivelled up after he lost it

Uranus used to carve asteroids in the past before paint was invented, now Earth is his art dealer and Uranus paints him pictures in return

Uranus used to make weapons in the past, he still had a few of them, but most are lost to time (aka found by the dwarf planets who now used them in their DND  campaigns)

Neptune memory get better the longer his out of his orbit and can go on long rants about random science facts, Uranus loves listening to Nep while he paints, it feels the silence and gets rid of any bad thoughts Uranus might have

Neptune has a seashell that is used to worn the other planets if their is a intruder that Neptune can’t beat alone (building off Neptune being the protector of the solar system)

Neptune had become a bit of a urban legend among some of the planets and moons since hardly anyone every sees him or his moons (they like keeping to themselves) and lots thought he was just a myth made up to keep them inline, that was until Uranus managed to convince him and his moons to come out of their orbit.

Neptune has barely any social skills but he means the best and is the nicest among the planets

Saturn doesn’t like getting close to his moons (like getting to know their names) because he knows their just going to crash into him one day and he doesn’t want to go through the pain of losing a moon she was close to again

This is someone else’s headcannon, I’ll link if I can find the book but Titan used to be X’d moon but Saturn took him as a trophy after they ejected X, this is why Saturn can only remember Titans name,

In the past Saturn didn’t really see Titan as a moon but a object that’s meant to be showed off to others (his was just a war trophy to show Saturn won)

Neptune leaves all his moons with Triton so they don’t have to deal with the loneliness of his orbit and won’t go insane like Neptune did

Neptune teaches his moons everything he knows so they are pretty smart

Uranus is almost always covered in paint, even his clothing isn’t spared from the paint

Uranus made all his own clothing and has let Neptune colour onto is pants, which had only resulted in little smiley faces all over his pants and face

Both Neptune and Uranus’ moons love to sleep in their hoods since they have fur lining it, Uranus’ moons aren’t the biggest fan of him but their not going to give up a soft place to sleep, you don’t come across fluff in the solar system all that often

Neptune and Uranus would wear summer clothes 24/7 if it wasn’t for Jupiter and Saturn forcing them to wear their coats (the fluff helps)

Uranus has a leg brace from the moon that crashed into him as well as chronic pain (the reason for his tilt)

Uranus had always gotten sick more easily compared to the other giants which didn’t help when his moon crashed into him

The giants don’t know most of rocky planets, they have meet Proto in the past but now Earth can’t visit them nor can they come close to the rocky planets without putting them in danger ( they have to be really careful during suns competition)

Earth only shears the good things about having life never the bad so most planets have a false idea of what it’s like, making Venus even more jealous not realizing how much pain Earth goes through

Earth has a lot of health issues directly related to his Earthlings, this includes chronic headaches from the oil drills, poor lungs from the factory gasses, stomach aces from pollution (mostly from his waters) he also has chronic pain from the wars and the asteroids that killed his dinosaurs

Earth is incredibly worried that his Earthlings will find a better home (like earth 2.0) which is why his really defensive to other planets/moons with water

Earth’s personal is derailed a lot from his Earthlings and is extremely paranoid because of them

Thanks for coming to a late night rambling with Thunder Rose <33

I’m very sleep deprived lol

[foreststarflaime]

Brainrotting about the nuance of the Am I a Monster dilemma in Crisis Core again (sorry if any of this is rambling I have been awake for over 20 hours on 4 hours of sleep bc my brain is stupid and refuses to let me get adequate sleep)

I find it’s somewhat easy to forget about the literal definition of the word in this context, at least for me because I want these idiots to stop self-destructing and live happy lives—but in older cultures especially (and here I’ll talk from the Ancient Greek side of things bc it’s what I’m most familiar with) the definition of monster is very literally just something that goes against the natural order of things, usually hybrids of different animals smashed together, like a chimera being a lion, goat, and snake in one body or a sphynx being a winged lion-woman. And in that sense, it’s unavoidable that they are right in calling themselves monsters.

But when the word monster gets brought up in a moral sense, in the context of what it means to be human, as we see so often these days (not saying no ancient authors ever did this or vice versa, it’s just more prevalent in more modern times from what comes to mind immediately for me), it’s not about the literal, it’s about the metaphorical, about the choices you make and how you choose to live your life. And in this sense (at least before their respective insanity arcs) they aren’t really monsters, they’re just people trying their best.

And I love how this duality plays out when each of them find out about the horrific experiments that have been done on them and the crisis starts.

Starting with Genesis—his is a character very connected to the first definition of monster, considering his love of Loveless, which seems to be an ancient epic of the cultural kind of the Iliad or the Odyssey (plus, as I’ve mentioned before, his last name in Greek literally means singer of epic poetry). So, if the Greek definition is foremost in his mind, it does make sense that he can’t shake the thought that he is a monster and have a mental breakdown as such. It makes sense that he fell first.

Then we have Angeal, also more closely tied to the first definition of monster, if we look at it in the older vs newer way—he’s a character very tied to tradition and honor, so it would make sense. Plus if you don’t buy that, then there’s the fact that he’s known Genesis all his life, so at least some of his thinking had to have worn off on him at some point. He also wouldn’t be able to shake the thought that he isn’t really entirely human, and of course he’d be bothered by it, having tied his worldview so tightly to upholding human morals and values—it makes sense he fell as hard as he did.

Now, saving Sephiroth for a bit longer, let’s look at Zack’s reaction to all of this. He definitely sees this dilemma from the point of view of the second definition of monster, as we see blatantly in the writing—see “SOLDIER doesn’t mean monster”, etc. He’s the youngest, the puppy, the idealist loyal to his friends until the end. He tries to impart this onto his friends, and although they do understand this on some level, it’s not enough to overpower the other definition of a monster in their minds, and therein lies the tragedy.

And then with Sephiroth, to exacerbate the tragedy of what he could have become even further, he’s pretty evenly tied to both definitions. He has distinctly inhuman features, which would bring the literal definition of monster to his mind, and his ‘mother’ is a 2000 year old alien. So no, he’s not entirely human, not literally anyways. But he’s also so, so human in all the ways that matter, at least before he went insane, and I think he’s aware of this too, at least enough to hold on to the desperate hope that this is true, and that having just a little bit of compassion makes the difference. But in Nibelheim, the weights keep dropping in the literally-a-monster side of the scale, and he judges himself unworthy, and the rest is history.

[lizzyscribbles]

You know what I realized yesterday through an event that I desire to never deal with again in my entire life?? Toga’s parents really did suck.

Today’s Rambling Thought: Toga, and why her parents deserve hell.

Picture this, it’s the evening, I’m getting ready to get on a discord call with my friend because we’ve been watching MHA together and we usually chat between episodes (it’s their first time watching the show, we’re in season three). I go to use the bathroom and what do I find?? Remnants!!! Of a bird!! I’m not talking about a few feathers here, I’m talking bones, a pile of internal organs, and a half mutilated wing covered in blood and God knows what else. Completely dismembered. Of course, there are two potential culprits in this crime scene, both cats. (I should mention these aren’t my cats, I was watching them for a friend), but I’m pretty sure the one circling my feel and meowing proudly is the one. So, I get to clean up bird guts at like 8PM, trying my hardest not to gag.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT I DID TO THE POTENTIAL CRIMINAL??

Nothing. I patted his head and gave him a scratch.

All this delightful context to put into perspective this realization that came to me later that night, how is it that I - someone who actually had to clean up a mutilated bird - nicer to a cat that ISN’T MY OWN than Toga’s parents were TO THEIR OWN DAUGHTER. Now I’m no saint, and I realize a cat and a human are completely different, but come on, for real guys?

I don’t think we’re told how old Toga is in the scene where she’s offering her parents the bird (if you know please share) but we know she’s a little kid. Like I’ve said before, I’m studying psychology in college and I worked with kids in foster care, so if I know anything at all it’s this: Children are little sponges, and they automatically want to do whatever it is you tell them not to do. It’s a natural part of development, and actually something we don’t really lose as we get older (the specific term is rebel psychological reactance I think). So it’s really no surprise that after years and years of being told nothing but no when it came to these urges she had, she eventually just snapped. The kids I worked with were the same, the longer they were in the shelter I worked at the less they felt inclined to listen when we told them no, and I don’t think I need to explain why that’s dangerous.

Now, I’m not saying that consuming another’s blood as a child or gnawing on yourself in your sleep is normal behavior or something a parent shouldn’t be concerned about, but there’s a reason therapy focuses on replacing negative coping skills with positive ones. Did they ever go beyond just calling her weird and creepy? Did they take her to a doctor get a blood test and find out if maybe there’s a reason she was doing this beyond just being freaky? Does she have an iron deficiency?? I’m just rambling now and that’s pure speculation, but no, they just kinda insulted her over and over, told her not to, and sent her to quirk counseling which IS NOT a substitute for actual therapy I’m sure. The bottom line here is that you can’t take something away and not add anything in. You can’t tell someone not to do something and not supplement it with something else.

It’s little wonder that once she snapped, she went straight to “I just want to do whatever I want”, because she spent her whole life being told not to be something. I think it’s easy to forget that Toga is still legally a child at the start of the series, one who has not been taught how to safely deal with her urges. No wonder she felt more at home with the league of villains, they gave her what she never got. No wonder Ochaco’s actions in the final chapter shocked her so much. She was never accepted for who she was until then. She was never treated like she was a normal person.

The people who were supposed to love her most in the world saw her as a disease to be rid of, and I that disgusts me more than a dead bird ever will.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk, I���m gonna go ramble about how, as an author and a fan, I love her end even if it makes me so sad, and Ochaco’s part in it.